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But I’ve kept some of my favorites here for you, too.
a reflection: on drinking
“But because I’m a quick learner, I took experiences like that and applied them to how I lived my life; or how I subconsciously canvassed for acceptance. I was showing about 75 percent of the puzzle, and alcohol made it refreshingly simple to silence the remaining quarter. But the problem was that the remaining 25 percent– that was where the really good stuff was hiding. That was the pure; the delicate pieces of me and my needs that I had covered a long time ago. They were all still there, buried under lava perfectly preserved. And now with a fighting chance to be heard, they were bobbing to the surface. Little inner child zombies rising from the dead.”
a poem: love days
There are days
when love feels
like tight shared closets and laundry piles,
neverending to dos and “we’re out of soap.”
A soft resign as one of them
pulls on a pair of shoes to run
to the bodega.
a reflection: addicted to chaos
“But I’ve been thinking about if these two things actually serve me – or do they simply keep me in a cycle of creating problems and then having to solve them? Constantly testing my limits, betting my hand with dangerous things like my self confidence and worth.“
a poem: sneaky grief
“My grief – it’s like the last person I want to run into at the grocery store. I round the cereal aisle and there it is.
My cart slamming into theirs.
“Wow hi! It’s been awhile, huh? How are the kids?”
While I plot the quickest way out of this hell.”
a story: neck pillow
“She smiled, and with full knowledge of what kind of crazy she looked like, started walking down the atrium. The late afternoon light shone through the floor-to-ceiling windows and cast a bobbleheaded shadow on the floor next to her. I giggled at the physical comedy of it all, but as she moved further away, my spine started to stiffen. My eyes ached with exhaustion, my body was so tired I wasn’t sure that I would even have the strength to stand up, but I wanted to follow her – worried she would get lost. Worried that she would need my help.”
a poem: velvet
“But what happened
was I realized
I don’t want to write a poem
about lightning,
when I want to write a poem
about you.”
a poem: wise woman
“Watch me grit my teeth
and lasso the destination
pulling it closer to meet it
in the middle.”