Single Motherhood

is you, with cold hands

me, eating only 
off-brand chex 
for a week
to buy you, 
the coziest,heaviest,thickest 
mittens
I, can find
It's me
Sewing them together
with leftover string I found
just incase
and  a 20 min lecture
It is you, you, you,
ripping them off of said
s   t    r i    n   g 
and losing them
the very
first
day
It is me
yelling at you, but not you,
because i'm fucking 
hungry
for something besides
lost mittens
and off brand chex 

Mine

There are secret places inside me

Where I go to scream

Where I go to cut out all of the pain

everything unseen

To drain the tears, the blood, the screams

It's crowded in my secret room

With voices, eyes, and teeth

All at once they yell

Voices swirling around around my head

So much anger, so much pain, so much heat 

Secret places inside of me

Where I beg you to give her back to me 

darkness falls

Darkness falls and panic creeps in.
Where will the blackness take me tonight
and can I ever win?

The lamp fills the room with a promising light,
but in my mind I am screaming
suffocating in a black blacker than night.

The temptation is so unbearably strong,
to end this daunting life,
to find rest and relief after fighting so long.

I have no more in me, no fight to hold on
I am growing smaller and weaker
and on the horizon there is no dawn

If I surrender to it's enticing call
Where would it take me?
Heaven or hell
or nowhere at all?

more

I will rock you to sleep until you're two
I'll keep singing long after you can hear me anymore
but I will hear you.

I'll throw you lavish birthday parties and make too big of a deal.
It will start when you'll be too young to remember,
but I always will.

I'll spend too much money on Christmas and lost teeth.
And you may not remember what I get you each year,
but I'll remember every single thing.

I'll take a ridiculous amount of pictures and never throw anything away.
And other's will think my hoarding is crazy,
but I'll look at them with wonder someday.

I'll be paranoid and overprotective, examining every single sore.
I'll kiss you three times instead of one.
because I wanted you more.

before your hands turned cold

You died on a Sunday,
in the song of the rain.
The pavement was shiny,
my rushing in vain.

You left before I arrived.
And I felt myself fold
I wanted to see you
before your hands turned cold.

Your skin looked hard,
like green-yellow plastic.
Your tiny body was disturbing,
in a hospital bed so drastic.

A tear dripped down my cheek 
as yours received my kiss, so controlled.
I didn't want to lose composure
before your hands turned cold.

Your head was so big;
your brain ever-growing,
and your limbs so small,
atop a tiny trunk eroding.

Atrophy couldn't get past that iron-clad safe,
The one in your mind where it could never take hold.
Your brain was a fortress,
before your hands turned cold.

The machines were silent with respect,
and your eyes didn't flutter like before.
The blankets didn't rhythmically move
And I'd thought I'd wanted to say no more.

I thought I'd said everything I wanted to say.
I thought no more thoughts could be told.
But I wanted to warm your heart
before your hands turned cold.

For Uncle Guy.  January 26, 1965-April 17, 2011

cocoon

They say the struggles of the butterfly
Give it strength to make it soar.
And in the end, after the butterfly is almost willing
To give up and die.
The cocoon breaks.
And the butterfly emerges,
Beautiful and strong,
Spreading its wings to soar into the sky.
I wanted to thank you,
For reminding me that I too will have wings,
Beautiful and strong.
For not letting me give up,
And making sure my soul doesn't die.
For listening to me when nobody else would,
And when my heart would cry.
And I wanted you to know,
I hope you feel my wings
Brush against your cheek
When I spread my wings,
And fly.

fireworks

Fireworks
Like brilliant stars,
Exploding
In one, last, great burst.
Then
They die.
How sad.

hopeful toes ii

When I feel the music
Sometimes it makes me want to cry.
I can feel the pain, the love, the tears. . .the utter joy!
Deep inside my soul.
My toes kiss the ground through satin slippers
And my heart develops wings.
Only reality holds me inside of these oh-so-confining walls!
Spinning and leaping rhythmically,
I paint the hopes and dreams,
Of these familiar notes
Across the canvas of your eyes.
Two, three, four. . .
Satin pounds against the hardwood floor.
Unconsciously I dance as I feel,
For routine reminds me too much,
Of reality.
Closing my eyes I am unaware
Of anything but the rhythm and grace,
Seeping out of my soul.
Delicate hands and powerful arms
Propel me as my heart sings
And I savor the feel of the ground,
Beneath my blistered toes.
Suddenly the music stops,
And I unknowingly subside.
I breathe furiously and collapse on the ground,
My heart laughing for joy.
Throbbing toes, forced so long against that
Sustaining block of wood in those satin shoes
Had hardly noticed!
They thought they were dancing in the clouds. . .
Hmm. . .
So did I.

hearing my voice

Press record, rewind and play
Throw it across the floor.
Why can't I hear my soul instead of what I say?
There is so much more. . .
Down my cheeks hot tears are streaming.
These mad emotions in my head!
And inside my heart is screaming. . .
My spirit might as well be dead!

hopeful toes

Sometimes,
Life gets so tough
That you have to plant your feet
Steadily on the ground,
And walk upright with your head held high,
But with your eyes fixed on your toes. . .
Because your toe-ring,
Says "hope" on it.

cry

I find it somehow
Ironic
That a child's
First sign
Of life is a
Cry.

morning

As I fight my blonde hair
In the mornings,
I stare at the girl glaring back at me
And wonder, who she is
And how she got so very far away.

mirror, mirror

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Who is the fairest of us all?
Distorted image you paint before my eyes,
In my sight, nothing but lies.
I sicken myself as my mind looks back on reflection,
Pictures and words of so-called perfection.
They've warped our minds and consumed us one, by one.
We do anything and everthing that could possibly be done,
To "perfect" our bodies, regardless of pain.
And yet to be so vain,
that it becomes against ourselves a competition.
And hopelessly in our own minds, we never reach "perfection."

obsessive

Why do I evaluate my self worth
In comparison to my dress size?
Why did they have to make size zero,
When I was finally satisfied with one?
Why do I deliberately avoid mirrors?
Or ponder if I could get my waistline to single digits?
Why do I read nutrition labels, on bottled water?
Why do I hate myself, when I eat three meals a day?
Why can I fell my stomach blow up like a balloon,
When I eat more than seven nonfat crackers?
Why do I read beauty magazines,
When they make me feel repulsive?
Why do I find myself comparing even my toes,
To those that I feel I can never measure up too?
Why, when I look in the mirror,
Do I see an ugly girl staring back at me?

ocean

I sit here listening to talk of who likes who
And he said she said and
I try to pretend to be interested
Just to see if I can fool them
Once more.
I do.
I wonder if I am really an ocean deep
With waves of disturbance, controlled by the moon
Crashing inside of me.
Or, if I just pretend to be-
Just to feel different. . .
Or rather more than lipgloss and nail polish.
Then, I feel a wave crash.
I know I am real.

once upon a time

I speak cautiously
And I feel her burning stare
What is playing through her mind?
I hang my head in sickening shame.
Then, I wonder what you would say
To lift my chin to the sky.
And then, I can smile again.
Because once, I made your heart smile,
And you loved me.

platinum blonde

Who is that girl?
In the red dress
Writing her name
In cursive
With her hips,
Out on
The dance floor?
The platinum blonde hair. . .
Is that real?
I can hear what she is saying
Inside her head.
Is this me?
Don't think.
Just dance.
Smile.
That cherry red lipstick smile.
Shiny and painted on with such care.
Perfectly matching her fake nails.
That platinum blonde hair. . .
It can't be real.
Tick. tick. tick.
Goes the bomb,
Like the
Click. click. click.
Of her chunky heels
Against the mock-marble floor.
Tick, tick, tick,
Click, click, click.
Tickticktick!
Clickclickclick!
Slam goes the bathroom door.
And the tears flow like
The ice water
From the faucet.
I can hear what shes saying
Inside her head.
I hate this. I hate you!
Why can't I deal with this. . .nothingness?
This is nothing. Nothing nothing.
Nobody knows that the click click and the tick tick
Finally went off for the night.
Because she wouldn't dare let you see
Past that cherry red smile,
That dance.
Those perfectly matched fake nails
And that perfectly platinum blonde hair!
She wouldn't dare let you see her fall apart
And actually let you see
How much those words
Kill her.
Finally she paints on that cherry smile.
And with her perfect fake nails,
Smooths that perfectly platinum blonde hair.
And her perfectly matched heels
Click against the mock-marble tile.
She has to go she says
After a few perfect drunk guys chat her up.
As she walks through the door.
You ask "Who does your hair? That can't be real!"
"It's not," she says with that cherry smile.
As she runs out the door
And lets the rain soak her platinum blonde hair.
Melting it away.

self-worth

I felt your burning stare
That sent my skin crawling
And I even saw that finger
Your whisper. . .so discreet.
So for your convenience
I thought I'd answer all of those questions
That I hope are burning your brains out:
No, I am not high because
Yes, my brain functions superior to that.
No, my mind is just fine-
You should know what I think of you now.
No I am not insane. . .
But I think I'm getting there.
No, I am not deaf,
I hear the taunts too well.
Nor am I a foreign exchange student;
I've been in this position many times before.
No that wasn't a prank phone call and
No this is not a dare. . .
This isn't worth your laughs.
No this isn't a game
Though you seem to think it is.
I'm terribly sick of playing
But roll the dice if you insist.
Yes, well maybe my mouth is full;
Full of unspoken words that could
Tear at your heart too.
But as I turn and walk silently away with
Tears burning my eyes
That I can't let you see and
White knuckles that would
Like to strangle you
I hope it was worth it.
I hope it made you smile.
I hope you found your
Cheap entertainment.
Because the price was high.
Tomorrow I'll forgive you
The hate will fade
Into your words, forever hanging in the air.
But you can't ever see my eyes again
Or hear them laugh
See me breathe
Or feel my smile
Because for all tomorrows
When we encounter
The lump in my throat,
The sting of my eyes,
The fire of my heart,
Will force my feet away,
Away from you and all of the rest of them.
Your faces, names, your circumstance
Are forever etched in a heart
You try to turn to stone
But you won't succeed.
So tell me,
Was it worth it?

shame

Such a pretty name
Such a gorgeous girl
Such a shame
Such dreams she has
Such talent
Such a shame
Shame, Shame, Shame
I am such a shame
Why?
Shame, Shame, shame
Why?
I scream and fall to my knees
Why?
Shame, Shame, Shame
I shake with anger and frustration
Shame, Shame, Shame
Why?
I walk down the street
People stare
Such a pretty name
Such a gorgeous girl
I speak
They stop
They whisper:
Such a shame
Shame, Shame, Shame
I am alone
Why?
I scream, fall to my knees and shake
Shame

slide

I went
running today,
running from insanity.
I stopped at the park and
I slid down the slippery slide
When nobody was looking, and
It felt so good that I smiled, the entire way home.