Hints

I drop them, breadcrumbs
as I trudge through the dark forest
Find me, Save me
Stolen away by mice
Trampled by leather boots
because my friends are looking at their phones

I throw them, handfuls
Save me, Help me
They fidget at the discomfort
of crumbs down their shirt, loosen the collars
What a nuisance

I am not hinting anymore
Breadcrumbs pour from my sleeves
Eyes dripping in pain
Everyone walking
looks away

If I Were Made of Paper

Some people really are open books,
eager to show off each chapter.

They fearlessly send out secrets
like whole flocks of doves
searching for a green bough.

I do admire that confidence.

I am more of a locked diary,
bound in rough cloth
with pages stubbornly sticky.

My stories might be coaxed out
like hungry dogs
offered tidbits of trust
from quiet palms.

Day 3

My broken heart aches on for you.
I see your face in all I do.
As I walk I sing the song
“You are My Sunshine”. You hum along.

I know you’re gone and you’re not here.
But your voice still whispers in my ear.
Hazel eyes from beneath lush lashes
stay vivid though each day still passes.

The tears I cry do not do justice
to the soft heart-wrenching rushes
of remembering you’re really gone.
I wonder if I can move on.

How is loss ever healed?
How did you live with pain so real?
You made it 29 years, my love.
So brave; I did not express that enough.

We Can’t Give Up

You say you know sadness
you can’t run from, and a
despair that fills your shoes?

You say your days are cloudy
even when the sky is
bright and blue?

You say you feel the tug
of death at every door?
You say you crave the pain,
the rush, the call of
something more?

My friend, do not give up.
We both will make it through.
Listen, friend, I know this
because I feel it too.

Solitude Knocks on my Door

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Photo from ignitelight.tumblr.com

Oh hello, solitude;
come in, but do not make me feel
that I am unworthy of
the breaths I take.

So bring me your tears and I will
wash them away with laughter.

Dearest solitude, do not say
I am weak to invite you here.
I love you as I love my friends.

Solitude: take a seat at my table
and I will pour us two cups of tea,
and I will cherish you, for I do
not fear your presence.

I Would Write Us a Poem

If I could possibly string together
adjectives of our belonging, bead up my
growing sorrows on a thread of doubt, I would.
I would knit a scarf, cities long, and
stitch our happiest memories into its
winter warmth; a blend of pine trees
and tea, laughter, soft smoke, kisses in
the wool. If I could plant a garden
for my love now waning, I would tuck seeds
of gratitude into our damp chestnut soil.
One day they might sprout, bloom
into radiant red bursts of friendship
and shoot peaceful vines towards the sun.

On Being Alone

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Alone is not the same as lonely,
though I might as well be alone
if I will be lonely either way.
Someone told me that once.

I know you don’t understand the foreign
concept of needing alone time
something an overworked mother would say–
let me try to explain:
It’s the quiet in my head. The calm
after the storm. A light contented
relief, to be with myself, to curl into
the couch with a good book that might
hold my attention longer even than
a good friend. Sorry, friends.

It’s just that I listen too much. No–
it’s just that you talk to much. No–
it’s just that my voice is too soft. No–
it’s just that your voice is too loud.

There is no blame. There is only peace
in being alone after we have been together
so long. There is only quiet, in which I may
organize my thoughts, and repeat happy times
in my head over and over again.

Aching for Your Smile

I’m aching for your laugh, your smile.
To see your mouth turn up at the sides,
to see light dancing bright in your eyes.

I’m aching to see you happy.
I’m aching to feel your ease, your warmth,
your quiet appreciation.
To touch the edge of something bigger.

It’s just us two, sitting across a table,
discussing nonsense that makes up the day.
I am constantly making stupid jokes,
just to hear your laugh melt away my anxiety,
just to watch your expression soften,
just to feel this peace in my chest.