Tag Archives: poetry

“My Mother Noticed A Pattern”

Don’t cry. Don’t cry at work. Never in front of coworkers, especially not in front of customers. Cry in front of your friends; let them know you’ve been hurt. They need to know; they think you’re an ice cold bitch. They don’t respect your feelings, you’re a bitch. You’re not a bitch but I can see why they’d think that. I can see why they’d hate you, that’s all I’m saying. A strong, independent thinking woman who doesn’t need anybody and won’t ask for help. Why don’t you ever ask for help? People need people, you need them. Tell her you need her. Go back home and tell her, you need her as a friend now more than ever. Some girls give up on their friends when they find a new man. She’ll be missing you. Who will she call when they fight, when they break up, when she needs to move out, when she needs somewhere else to go to be alone, when she realizes her mistake and misses you? Why didn’t she tell you? You always take care of other people, when does someone take care of you, when is it your turn? You never take responsibility for your part in it all. You’re defensive, you’re never wrong, it’s never you, you are the problem. Stop pretending like you aren’t in pain, stop pretending the last four years didn’t matter and you don’t care it’s over. What’s wrong with you? Why is it always this way with you? You’re so willing to just give up on your friendships so quick when you think you’ve been wronged. There’s no give and take, no acceptance of your part in it all. You never forgive them; never try to work it out. It’s still your home, they’re still your friends, go back. Tell them. Tell them what you’re thinking. Ask them why? Why! You don’t keep your word. This is why they hate you, you break your promises. You’re so unreliable; it’s really no wonder. It’s all so childish; at least you’re acting like an adult, you’re so immature, just as bad as them. You can’t just run out every time there’s a problem; nothing ever gets resolved. You think I don’t have snarky things to say to him? Ignore him. Ignore her. Leave your key and leave. I want you to get revenge, never take revenge, take the highroad. Don’t sink to their level, even when they treat you how they do. How are things between you now? When was the last time you saw her? She’ll get what’s coming to her. One day she’ll be alone and think of you. She’ll remember your friendship, she’ll need a friend now, more than ever, and you won’t be there and it will kill her. She’ll regret it all, it will hurt her whenever she thinks of you, every time she sees you and covers her face like peek-a-boo with a four year old. She always was too immature, obviously she is great; she is your best friend for a reason. Forgive her, try to bury the hatchet. It’s a better place to be than pain and hate. You don’t want to end up alone, forgive her. You’ll end up alone, forgive your friends and keep them. Even if they don’t want you back, try to talk to them.

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“Goodnight Moon”

  1. 1. a small lidded jar full of little razor blades
  2. a model of a unit I never realized full scale
  3. a silver danish duck, carved wood, head turned about, peering behind himself
  4. leaves of a spider plant sprawled about
  5. abstract, almost like feathers, red, yellow, orange leather earrings made by a friend
  6. an ever growing heap of high heels by the front door
  7. wet red dishes drying by the sink
  8. over flowing heap of dark clothes by the dresser, needing to be laundered
  9. the slight greening of the inside of my turtles tank
  10. a lone twig amidst the sand at the bottom of the tank
  11. the cinnamon overpowering the chocolate of my winter drink
  12. abstract golden bird bookends, exaggerated long necks
  13. a brown wax owl, aging into white
  14. a crumbled bridesmaid dress of a wedding I wasn’t invited to and didn’t attend, on the floor
  15. the dress made of woven golden ribbons and golden Christmas ornaments
  16. a turquoise and pink corset draped across the floor, forgotten with the relief of freedom and breath
  17. yellowed ginger root at the bottom of a white ceramic mug
  18. Average, off white, plastic fork with longer than usual tines
  19. little squares of paper filled with tiny handwriting
  20. a travel mug, green paint peeling, showing age and use
  21. red leather wallet, thick and heavy, over filled
  22. black headphone wires, twisted and knotted
  23. faceted small diamonds, refracting light into my eyes
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“We Met In May”

forgive my panic
poking through
reaching out
grazing your skin
ready to gore

forgive the distance
I put between us
the boundaries
you cannot cross
to get to me

please forgive me
for my caution
my darling
for my aggressive

I am your prize
you are my hunter
a cunning mutilator
concealed in the trees

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Quiet city tide
Subsides under toe nail moon
Cheeks flushed, tired eyes
Pacing to be the breeze
That won’t ever come.
Junkie grabs his face
With one hand at his jaw
Looks at the sky and screams
The cigarette between his lips
Where I want to be

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