Untitled

She lived as if the entire world

revolved around her moods

each turn met by a calculated counter-turn

every smile a careful balance

between revelation

and secrecy

She loved as if we were

all to blame

as if every tender word left

a wound

visible as a line on her face

and each morning she'd recount them

while we stood

rigid mirrors reflecting her lost youth

She spoke as if speaking

were a cliff and she could fall

and keep falling for miles

before crumbing at the bottom

of the chasm of her making

wrinkled as a raisin

in the harsh light of the sun

She spoke as if she never

learned the words

for forgiveness, love, or sorrow

as if they were foreign tastes

too bitter or sweet

for her sharp tongue

Once, in my weakness

I cried for her to hold me

and her contemptuous eyes

brought the world crashing down

I willed her sing to me

shelter me

save me

but her arms were wooden drum stick

tapping my back

in dispassionate parodies of song

©

Pork Barrel Politics

The Door

And so I looked
towards the door,
my thoughts lingering
like your presence -
shadows of indifference upon the threshold

To exit would be
your finality,
the escape of all I
once held as true;
my depravity the doorknob







The door has always been open,
but until now I have avoided
the coldness, the continual draft
of your existence

The other side beckons to me
with it's decadent hands of denial,
so eagerly awaiting this
staved immaculance

To walk through that door,
to forget,
would be my last act of submission
carried out in your name

So I walked
through that door, and I
left my shroud of naivete
on the hanger nearby
that is cluttered
with other such hypocrisy

© Cindyrella

Born to Fly

When you walk to the edge of all the light you have
And take that first step into the darkness of the unknown
You must believe that one of two things will happen:

There will be something solid for you to stand upon
Or you will be taught how to fly

~Overton

After a While

After a while you learn
the subtle difference between
holding a hand and chaining a soul
and you learn
that love doesn’t mean leaning
and company doesn’t always mean security.

And you begin to learn
that kisses aren’t contracts
and presents aren’t promises
and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes ahead
with the grace of woman, not the grief of a child
and you learn
to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow’s ground is
too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way of falling down
in mid-flight.

After a while you learn
that even sunshine burns
if you get too much
so you plant your own garden
and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting for someone
to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure
you really are strong
you really do have worth
and you learn
and you learn
with every goodbye, you learn…

© Veronica A Shoffstall