I'm really struggling to find time to poet and I'm hopefully going to replace this tomorrow but for now you get this -
Baking Dependencies
I baked myself into a dependency where inviting cookies means inviting me, and now to turn up empty handed means being prepared for the ever candid - Did you forget the cake at home? They're only joking but I feel unknown, like my only identifying feature is how well I bake a biscuit creature.
i remember when you kept your skeletons in your closet. you took them apart, one by one, and put them away in the corner of your mind you neglect.
(you said it's better to haunt your ghosts instead of letting them haunt you. i agree.)
you said you still felt lonely, even with the extra company. what happened to your nightmares, dear? they are the ghosts that keep chasing you, just without bone.
(don't get me wrong. i've been haunting my own ghosts for years.)
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
Maybe someday, I will have a purpose. Maybe someday, I will have a reason. But not today. Today I lay on my worn-out couch without a want in the world. I stare at the cracks in the walls for hours. A little spider crawl in and out. I close my eyes Though there is no chance I can sleep. For I have done too much of that. I think of picking up my phone. And calling one of my friends or some of my family. But even if I could develop the energy, I don't know what I would say. I don't know what I could say. Maybe someday, I will find an answer. But not today.
Last edited by MapleWay on Sat Apr 17, 2021 2:30 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"Writing is a place where you can be who you are."
question marks oh, i'm so tired of question marks. why do i have to be so uncertain all the time? why do i keep doubting myself, putting myself down so others feel better?
why do i keep asking why? *sigh*
all right, here's what i'm going to do i'm gonna straighten out that question mark get rid of its hunchback curve correct its posture and turn it into an exclamation mark instead see, much better!
this year turned me inside out but i want to be normal again.
my clothes are the same and so is my hair but my mind is
tumultuous
and i don't want to know what tomorrow brings because tomorrow means no one there to help me
because they are gone and all i have is the future because the present doesn't exist anymore
and the past means nothing nothing to me for no one is there anymore
she/her————pro-life————Christian————climber of rocks, trees, and rooftops----reader of poetry, Antoine de Saint Exupery, Pam Munoz Ryan, and Anthony Doerr "She is too fond of books, and it has turned her brain." -Louisa May Alcott
I heard the cherry blossoms are falling in Vancouver, cascading down to the blanket the streets you walk on. I wonder what it must be like, soft petals under your feet.
Over a video call, you tell me they’re beautiful, that I should see them next spring. Instagram is flooded with photos, and I can’t help but think I was supposed to be there.
Memories of our reading break in the West End fill my mind, walking without knowing where to go. Following the sound of seagulls and the smell of salt to the ocean licking the sand. Finding moments to capture on film, the wind blowing our hair, ruining our photos, laughter as we try to pose.
Did I ever tell you, I found a recording of the birds in Kitsilano? For three minutes I swear I’m there. I listen to it when I miss home, even though I was never in Vancouver long enough for it to become my home. Perhaps they remind me of what I thought would be.
When I see you again, will things be the same? Comfortable silence, easy laughter, long walks with no plan. I worry, I won’t catch you in time. That when I get back, you’ll be done, like the cherry blossoms blooming this spring.
Dear Marge, remember last July and all the green zucchini washing up? The hauls from nearby neighbors' gardens overflowed onto our porch. The veg that they bestowed was not unwelcome... till it was. We drowned within zucchini seas. We screwed around with every kind of dish: zucchini bread and pickles, roasts and casseroles. We fed on squash till we were sick, but still the whales (the biggest ones) continued to assail our porch. We took them in, but sickened by exotic recipes (jam, "apple" pie, and "meat"balls), we left them on our table. There, they turned soft and rotten. Unable to bear the shame of food-waste, we started passing to our neighbors any newcomers: reverse burgling zucchini and cucumbers.
Instead, he said, Brother! I know your hunger. To this, the Wolf answered, Lo!
how long did you think you could walk this valley dear, without tripping over skeletons it seems you've long pretended these grave bouquets are wild flowers, and that all your bones strewn here are no more than beach stones the water drug up from the sea -
(do you still confuse ____the straying smoke ______for falling rain? ________do you still pretend __________you can breathe?)
but there is no water for flowers here and this land is ash dry with empty words - left out in the sun too long and there is no gain in pretending when your skin is lit aflame,
(don't you know hope ________won't extinguish forest fires?)
you should know i am a time traveler & there is no season as achingly temporary as now
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