Choker (Poem #114)

The Choker

I slide it over my neck,

Perfect the placement,

one inch lower or a half an inch higher,

it needs to be perfect,

as if the  placement determines the pressure that reminds me to breath.

Maybe it is more than a fashion statement,

truly it reminds me how precious my life is,

as ever breath I take tugs upon it.

But how would  you know that,

all you see is the piercings,

the tattoo,

and the choker,

securing a memory in your mind of that girl,

not of me.

He took his and mine (Poem #113)

They told me what you did,

at first I thought it was some sick joke,

as if life was something that couldn’t be taken away in 3.5 seconds,

but as I sat there,

it sunk in,

they weren’t kidding,

you had done it,

you had given up.

My mind rushed,

words meshed together to create a choased mash up of songs fights and tears,

my silence turned to sobs and screams,

never again would the words petrude my lips,

your life was so precious,

but so was my innocence,

yet both of those were taken away by you,

and still somehow I cannot look in the mirror

without seeing the face of a monster I created

because even though I couldn’t forgive you for me

I swear I would have done it for you

if only I had known….

Why do I feel bad,

you did this to yourself

you felt bad because you did that to me

why do I feel bad…..

it should be you feeling bad still….

you took the easy way out,

you stopped feeling,

you are gone,

why am I still angry…

why did this….

why did you….


I wish to be made (Poem #110)

If I could be made of anything,

I would not choose

gold or silver,

diamonds or chrome,

nor granett or steel.

For no one desires to fill every waking moment with such hard material.

Yet I would not desire

to be of feathers,

or silk,

or suede;

for those are delicate and hidden away until a truly gentle moment arrives.

I would desire to be made of something common,

yet beautiful,

while still strong enough to stand on it’s own,

and gentle enough to kiss the face of a child.

I wish to be made of the only material that holds something strong enough to wear on past the date it expires.

I wish to be made of something so unique that it could never be remade the same.

I wish to be made of the only material known to man which can hold the world in balance for another human being.

I wish to be made of flesh.

In the moment (Poem #109)

The current of your breath on my neck,

leaping from inch to inch as your essence travels,

through my body,

to my soul,

back to yours,

as our bodies disappear,

only becoming bondage of the material world,

withstanding only the barriers the mind allows,

and then collapsing with a gasp and a moan,

as two souls became one.

Now isn’t that a sight (Poem #108)

The street burst,

clicks of heels,

dashing of dress shoes,

snuffling sneakers,

and the misfortune muffles of my flip flops.

I should have known better,

it rained,

I slipped,

and it really was a disarray of minute proportion,

yet to me,

if front of all those strangers,

that would be their one impression;

a foreign blond girl in trashy sandals falling on her ass in a puddle in the busy street of Tokyo holding a McDonald’s bag…

now isn’t that a sight!