Category: Poetry

Where Are You?

Some poetry are stories,
There’s no hidden meaning, the author speaks plainly, grabs you by the hand and takes you on a journey.

Some days, she smiles
and I’m whole again.

Pen scratches, dirty dishes
stained pillowcases
uniform
Sleep.

It happened again,
An unwelcomed guest
Crossed paths before
Over and
over again.

Cut, cut, cut
the young girl’s hair falls to the floor.

You ask yourself, who will I be now?

Seeing is believing.
A sea of red in a crowd of voices,
people who were once separated.

How very studious of you
How very productive

Pour another glass, tuck yourself in
You have nowhere to go
no one to see
Not in this world

Time starts and stops
and starts to stop
Between the seconds I’ve lived a dozen lives.

She speaks and swallows back the words
as soon as they leave her tongue,
a delayed censoring.

A book falls, I fall.

The proper thing to do is to pick it up, dust it off and hold it close to your heart.
Not me, not this time.