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Tag: poetry

Risk in Love

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 Trauma said to my self-esteem:
"Hatred of self is the currency for love that would otherwise be freely given."

Except, all of that hate doesn’t equate
Love — that which is freely expressed.

To my soul, Commitment confessed:
"Abandon ship! To love and be loved is too big a risk."

To my heart, she cried:
"I love you. I’ll show you."

I’ve been walking a tightrope ever since.

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The first smile

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the first time she smiled at me/it felt like her smile was forbidden/She buried her face in my pillow and she laughed as she bared her fangs/she never used them as a weapon with me/and I felt like I was one with the pack/Age wasn’t a factor and we/ fell in love starting from my first glimpse of her copper hair/Lines I traced in her hands/Often, I’d wonder why she’d chosen me/evidently fate had chosen us

Indigo

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There’s always been someone there when I felt like I wanted to end my life. Giving up is harder than pushing forward when there are these indigo children just like you, begging you to listen. So I do. I do not mean indigo children as in ancient aliens or the oval-shaped dudes on spaceships. I mean indigo, the color a child chooses to smear on her oil-painting as she tells me, someone who is three times older than her that I cant control my life, and that when I’m sad there’s nothing I can do but feel something.

There’s always someone there when I want to end my life.

She welcomes me home and does not know I have been trying to be a safe place for others to lick their wounds in, but still I am the altar left to collect dust from their mouths.

She says we’ll get out of here. She welcomes me home, and I forgot that I wanted to die.

There’s always someone there to remind me of what it means to be alive.

Sometimes I forget

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Time moves on, and I have held on 
Still, I will weep for the child 
That got lost in the abyss.

I can feel the ache in me
When I think back to all those homes
That I could not escape

I was too old at eighteen.
I left with nothing.

____________________________

I am twenty-six now,
and sometimes I forget my age.

I forget that I'm in charge of me
I'm in charge of my feelings, now.

At times, this joyous freedom is too big a responsibility.
This is normal to a degree, but 

Sometimes I forget my age,
When I think of 
What people are capable of 
Doing to a child 

_______________________________

Sometimes, I forget my age
When I think back on where I've been 
Or when I say I want to go home;
I forget that I pay rent 

_______________________________

Sometimes I forget to remember that I am home.
Sometimes my mind forgets that I'm home.

________________________________

I want to go home 
And know that I am there,
For once 


About Yesterday

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Yesterday, I did not turn around.
There was some comment
About how I'm a blonde now, 
But, I'm not.

"It's bleach,"

I let you pretend
That our house wasn't on fire.

"Do you like it?"

You ask this in a way that reminds me
 you like to make my mouth your favorite fishing spot.


"It's whatever,"
I've learned a lot about lying from you.



You only came over to look around.
But you've covered your eyes.



I look over and I see your child 
Repeating the same mantra,

"I am not a dock, there are no fish here,"



We repeat this together until you leave.
And then you do.



Our life resumes.




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$39.84

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I am many things;
But, I am no thief.
I've been plucked from the same soil,
And would never dream of reaping 
The harvest of your seeds.
I understand that prosperity arrives 
 In due season.

You took $39.84 from me.
You took $39.84 from my wife,
Not once, twice, but four times.

That's a weeks's worth food.
That's a few dates we can't go on,
(Even it is pizza in the candlelight).


But yesterday was 4/20, right?
Go get high while we take out more loans
Just to get by.

If you had realized you were taking from a person,
You'd be reminded that monetary value 
Doesn't define your inherent worth.

The best part? 
We would have given it to you.

Happy Easter to you too, from my family to yours:





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Passion’s Redirection

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It breaks my heart when something I believed in, disappoints me in the biggest ways. Perhaps, you know this feeling too. At some point, we all do – mothers, wives, caretakers, musicians, scientists – wherever you fall on the continuum, you are appreciated. You are worthy of your purpose.

Your story does not have to end, nor does your soul wish to remain useless; it may just be time to trail off the beaten path, or simply take a break.

As a passionate person, I thrive on fighting for good. I thrive when other people are lifted up. While I acknowledge my ego’s existence, I genuinely love helping people.

As you may have predicted, this sometimes pigeonholes me. I am often put in a position for the world to devour me, without so much as giving my spirit back.

Things are looking up, however. I met a beautiful friend, named Katelynn:
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I was able to get rent paid, finally; this affords me more time to get all the details of everything together to see where the road takes me. Moving into a bigger state would be a better option for me, for a number of reasons, including better health care.

I’m looking forward to seeing where the wind takes me, and I hope to see you around.

I love you.
Welcome home.
You’re safe here.





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