A lie.

It was a decision I will never regret.
It was not a choice I was allowed to make.
His actions sabotaged any choice I initially had.
But it was a decision that changed the course of my life.
I am still living in this change and have not yet recognized the gift that I have given to myself. However, each day, each challenge, each breath taken on my own, without my partner, has been that much harder and in return that much sweeter. I am slowly falling into a rhythm that is my own. But even I cannot blind myself to the hatred that pours out of me. I realize that there are certain things that happen to us along the way that cannot be healed with sweet words or a simple gesture, but I still long for a quick fix. I think we all do. Pain is hard to endure and no one should suffer more than is needed. Although we may think that we are done morning the loss of a chapter in our lives, we may not be. And that is why the pain still remains. It is how you turn the pain into energy that will help close doors and open hearts. You must use that energy, filling yourself to the utmost core with whatever emotion or thought that engulfs you at the time. You must never forget your past, continually live in the present and for god’s sake don’t ever refuse to live for your future. You will always be somebody’s child, somebody’s very best friend, and if you are lucky somebody’s mother, somebody’s wife. You will always have a purpose in this world, just remember to live it.

The Language of a Haiku

Haiku is one of the most important forms of traditional Japanese poetry. Haiku is, today, a 17-syllable verse form consisting of three metrical units of 5, 7, and 5 syllables. Haiku is the smallest literary form with the most rules. Here are a few of my own.

When we were once young
Our naive world ran free.
And now life burns truth.

Gentle fingertips
Caress the small of my back.
A cherished effort.

My decaying mind
Burned by florescent work lights
Trapped in a gray box.

The old dog sleeps sound,
Leg twitching, chasing rabbit.
The wood floor echoes snores.

Spanish lullabies.
She closes heavy eye lids.
Baby breath, heaven.

Your face sketched in time
Slowly ages, grows weary
Of death approaching.

Things I wished had been.
Dreams turned real for a short while
Collapse under me.

The winter hungers
For drops of sun bending down
Igniting a change.

Your smell is still strong.
Your voice fades into the night.
The blackness chokes me.

A Normal Person with a Boring Job

You are better than any lie you have ever told.
You are smarter than any book you have ever read.
You are braver than any superhero you cherished as a child.
You are in one word a WOMAN. And you are here to change the world.
Be what you are too afraid to talk about.
Accomplish what you are too timid to admit.
Do not shrink back behind the shadow of your male counterpart.
Do not allow yourself to be expendable, but rather show everyone the true potential of a woman who’s armed with confidence.
GO. Paint the canvass of this world with all your brilliance.
Live each day as if it was on purpose.
And if you were once that little girl, whose mommy never said, “baby when you grow up you can do anything.” I’m here to tell you ... You can and you will!
Go child. Go see the world. You will never regret it.

A Collaboration of What was Once Written

The history of the past must be remembered in order for its burial to mean something.

When I am with you I feel like a little girl in my red apple dress I used to wear, with pigtails and candy juices that have dried in the corners of my mouth. I don't know what fat or ugly means yet, and all I know is that this little boy next to me is considered my best friend, and I like to hold his hand and tell him secrets in his ear, with my hand covering my mouth of course, god-forbid anyone should hear that blue is my favorite color, or that I can do two cartwheels in a row.  I want him to be my best friend all the time, and he and i giggle till we sound like high pitch trumpets...and all of a sudden I forget my name and all I want to do is run around in circles until I get dizzy.  Seeing mom and dad kissing on the mouths, I do the same to him to show him I like him, his wet lips on mine. Afterward I try so hard to make him all mine that I inhale him like steam from wet concrete on a hot day, then I giggle again, and fall asleep in the best kind of silence. 

The countless times I have imagined you coming home, back to me.  Different images playing in my head, merging colors of thoughts and emotions.  I was waiting on the porch.  It was snowing outside, and the temperature dropped so low, that the cold air almost felt hot.  Sometimes when I run my hand under hot water it eventually feels cold.  I think its my mind playing tricks to help me handle the pain.  The cold outside, on that late night, was like the running water.  I would have stayed out there an eternity if I was sure that you would come home.  I never wear socks.  Even inside the house I cant stand having my feet covered.  As I wait impatiently, but almost hesitantly on the wet concrete, my feet are introduced to nothing new, and I am unfazed by the pain starting to form in the balls of my feet.  Sounds of yelling drunks go unnoticed.  The light post flickering onto the icy road is just another unneeded distraction.  Despite the cars speeding past, creating the slush sound, tire on snow, the sound I love so much, there is a still, the calmness that comes with every storm.  You know the nights of heavy snow, and noticed silence, streets emptied of busy bodies, lights through glass from a corner bakery shinning onto the walkway no more.  Those are the only times being alone isnt frightening or depressing but in fact embraced, wanted, and appreciated.  I am alone, waiting, wondering, how you will look, will you still have the same smells, how soon will I once again remember your distinct voice, and what will that do to the heart that has missed you for so long.  I'm wearing your shirt, which was once white, now contains many stains, and a new color of what I like to call off white.  I have on one of several pairs of my baggy, gray, hospital sweats.  Will you still think I'm the most beautiful woman you've ever laid eyes on?  I have lost weight and look healthier.  You loved me fully, and without hesitance when I had lost all familiar physical traits.  I have gained a new self, a new look  But does that matter?  Did it ever? Will it now?  I am less sick but still with a lowered immune system I wait, and wait, under the sky that soon suffocates me with the heavy realization that you are not coming home.  That I will sleep alone under the waves of black sheets.  I used to see your face everywhere I looked.  Staring at my white walls or the window looking out onto my porch, but worse was the inside of my swollen eye lids.  The most painful part of losing you, and finding me, is now I cant remember what you look like, and the white wall really is just the white wall.  I guess we both still have pictures, and a love you said would never die.

 Her bare calves naked to see right below the dress she holds on smoothly rounded shoulders.  A fire red dress. Movements of her graceful hands, and a laugh heard across the room which echoes off the wood floors, her heel tapping, never to see her face, only the silhouette of her embrace to another man.  And so he waits.