I’m a Hopeless Romantic at Heart

ANOTHER CHANCE

Another chance to get it right
An unused day. Let’s start anew.
Put down your pain, and I’ll drop mine.

Can’t we agree to end this fight?
Or is this all we know to do?
We’ve patched ourselves with tape and twine;

They’ve left their marks. The binding’s tight,
But even still, we’ve lost a few
Torn pieces. Time to redefine

The we, the us, the fear, the fright,
Which knots we keep, and which undo.
Let this be where we draw a line

That separates the false from true.
Let’s start again. Will you be mine?

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Will Life Ever Make Sense?

I AM MY OWN

I am my own worst everything,
Much more than any enemy.
I store my lies in sterile jars,
Each labeled with the truth by hand.

I am my own best anything,
Misunderstood epitome
Of contradiction, marked by scars
That tell a truth few understand.

I search for meaning in the stars.
Is all this chance, or was it planned?

I Overcomplicate Things

NAMELESS

I don’t want to tell you my name.
With it comes stories, my stories.
I don’t know you well enough yet.

Maybe others don’t feel the same,
Don’t need complex categories,
Don’t believe telling is a threat.

Find them then, and leave me the blame,
The nameless passions, the furies.
All mine. I take what I can get.

#MeToo

THE FIRST TIME

I wandered, too young
To feel bold, just bored.
Looking for dolls. I
Hate dolls. Now. But then…
I never saw his
face. Just felt his hand
Squeeze me from behind.
Behind me. My be
Hind. Too young, too scared
To tell. Too dirty.
That’s what happens when
Little girls wander.

Loathing lasts, begun
With dolls and ignored,
Never asking why
It’s okay for men
To touch. Power is
Something grownups and
Gropers have designed.
How could I break free?
The first time I dared
Wander, it hurt me.
Stay close and closed then,
A lesson to ponder.

That’s what happens when
Little girls wander.

So Many Missing This Year

this christmas

holiday cheer, so elusive,
melts from branches high above me
slips through my cold, cupped, waiting hands

into gray puddles. intrusive
carols wrap their warped melodies
around my wintered wonderlands

hang your ornaments, light your trees
I can’t explain. grief understands.

Writer or Witch?

A POCKET POEM

I’d like to write a rhyme today,
A uni-verse for us to share,
A simple poem that travels well.

I’ll write something sublime to say
How much I feel, how much I care,
Those secrets that I never tell.

So when you don’t have time to stay,
You’ll take me with you everywhere.
A pocket poem, this writer’s spell.