I pull the weight Hand over hand To get to you Slung over my shoulder Curled toward the ground I lean in to my own strength The tips of my fingers pulsing The pressure of the rope Strangling any kind of purpose Used to move forward Feet and hands, hands and feet Scurrying, grasping and … Continue reading Quicksand – November 22, 2019
I am torn, Ripped Right down the middle. Jagged Between my breasts. There’s a left, And a right. But what is left in-between? A peace, in me. Right there, Left behind.
I am tired, and Lonely, and Exhausted. From caring the emotional baggage You left behind.
Fresh off the boat, And jipped. As the anger builds Remind yourself by the minute, The second, The every waking moment, You're suffering, An inconsolable pain. Maybe, that way, You won’t find yourself Right back where you began Thirty years the later. Searching for the pieces, A puzzle hanging in time. You’ll feel the urge … Continue reading Left Behind – April, 24, 2019