float

Takes me back to that time,

watching it glide cross the

water, its dance with wind.

Gives me pause, slows my heart.

Old raft, it calls me in.

 

Takes me back to that time

when I marveled at how

the harlequin Danes roamed

on the in-between path

as we walked towards the foam.

 

Takes me back to that time

being rocked to sleep with

sand tangled in my hair.

My lips dry and salty,

back then I didn’t care.

 

Takes me back to that time

smiling across the fire,

when I didn’t fret so.

I just was, brought me back

to that time long ago.

brief

how did I end up here –

standing in front of the pink door

it had looked so charming

inside that accursed house 

where the dark unstable souls waltzed

the lights went out hiding

reflection

I dreamt I heard the floorboards creaking

hoped you might be home

but it was only the piano again

the pedals were moving on their own

my ghostly player knows the gravest arrangements

it plays with the most mournful tones

caressing the E’s, lingering over the G’s

hear its breath during the pause

makes me grow quiet, knows how to make me grieve

causes me to get lost in my thoughts

think about when you were home last

how I miss your face, miss our family

miss everything, miss the past

the pressing of the pedals

I just can’t stand it anymore

smelling the absence, feeling the regret

I cry for my gifted spirit to stop and go away

but it only nods and continues to play

 

 

mask

she is so perfectly agreeable

with her fading eyes and lost smile

they only see her bravery

looking past her hollow words, her slowing breaths

how she longs to not be so perfectly agreeable 

yearns to not care 

get lost in her own storm 

twirl, get tangled up with the wind

and prove you wrong

cause remember, you think she’s so strong

but if you listen, you’ll hear the subtle quake to her voice

the whispery sound of her words

she’s had lots of time to practice not being heard

cause it ends so badly, her being around

so she glides around the house

without making a sound

and she’s fed up, did you notice that?

she is so perfectly agreeable

as her antsy soul waits and waits to be born

but she wants to get lost like her smile and fading eyes

till she is no more 

gracefully, forcibly

yet unnoticeably slip away, but even in that

she would be so perfectly agreeable

blame

Frysta, 

why are you so cold?

Are you sad that your story 

has been told,

over and over to a 

world tired of listening?

 Frysta, 

why are so tired?

Did you not get enough sleep 

last night,

after you told that story the world is

so sick of hearing?

Frysta, 

why are so sick?

Are you not stronger than this?

Poor baby, suck in your bottom lip

and cry no more.

Frysta, 

it’s you that he abhors. 

Blames everything on you!

The hurt, the isolation,

the illness. 

Frysta,

why are you freezing?

You tell me it’s the meaning of your name.

But Frysta, we’re tired of listening,

we’re bored with this game.

crestfallen

that sadness always hits us like a brick

hear its calls louder when there are fewer

distractions to keep our dull minds at bay

sadness that wears on us like blankets

heavy, smelly, making us suffer and smolder

stifling, because it’s always summer here

 

you say you want to feel it though

swim in it, surrender to it

hear its taunts that test you

so you’ll grow, you always do

you’ll defeat it, and like its own season

it’ll pass

 

dear crestfallen one,

I’m proud of you, I’m grateful for you

as I try to feel hope instead of this weight of despair

that sadness just seems to hit us so hard

each and every time

as I count down the seconds that I can call you mine