Category: Writing

Holding hands at the county fair

belonging to a group people

being part of a story

drinking happy.

Sunshine and daisies

having a future

together forever

with my best friend.

But, there’s only one coffee cup

and friends are fictional.

Didn't work from the first day
Late to the party in all things
Sleep walking from June to May
There's no drive to dance and sing.
Sitting in her dusty box
dreaming of the other side
trying not to cut her locks
she knows it won't turn the tide.
She can change her clothes daily
She can change her hair monthly
She can change her job yearly
But she'll still be the same dolly.

It all comes out in the wash

the creases, the tainted thread

succumbing to the hellish heat

falling to the grubby floor.

We got what we wanted

a clean, bright, shiny plate

tie it in a ribbon and bow

forget the rest, no one knows.

The ground says why, why, why, why

why, five times over for truth

highlighting the creases and thread

for someone else to soothe.

Waiting in the dark

Sitting on the bench 

Not a flicker, not a spark 

Little girl behind a fence 

She can’t remember playing

She can’t remember staying

She can’t remember dreaming

She didn’t hear the screaming

Waiting for her life to begin

She missed it, happening. 

The clouds are floating south

a white dot, stops still

a constant in the silent

humming burring darkness

I can’t see tomorrow

but I can still hear today

the clouds are floating south

across this navy fray