Dear Unavailable,

When I said "You're hot"
It turns out I meant cold
I can't tell what you are -
Or what you're not
And it's really getting old.

Sincerely,
Letting Go

Be Careful What You Wish For

7.23.2015

Biopsy.
Polyps.
History.
Cancer.
Waiting.

I'm writing these words because I need to
Before the results come, before I know
Because my abdomen has been a war zone
And I'm not sure if I can take any more
Not without knowing what I'm fighting.
Part of me wants to hear, "It isn't anything"
But I need an answer, I want an answer
What if it's nothing? What if it's cancer?
I need validation for all of this pain.

I've never been careful with what I wish for
Always screaming what I want when I want it
What if my body heard me crying out
And gave me something to complain about?

No Poetry

There's this poetry inside me,
Words spinning around,

All this truth looking for a way out
Past the walls I've built -
- from everything we've lied about
From a foundation of fear and doubt

So my pen lies still, the paper is clear
But my mind is not

Because I'm afraid of what's in here
What has been lurking and how much?
What lies have been told, for how long?
Mostly, who have these lies fucked?

There's only so long I can stay
There's only so much I can take

Before this poetry ruptures this page.

Just Ask

When I was a small girl, I sat in my grandmother’s yard with watermelon juice dripping down my chin. Once the juicy pink triangle disappeared, I examined the white colored piece of the rind and took a bite. I worried it might not be good for me, but Mum said it was okay. I continued taking bites until the white section was gone. And even though the rind was bitter, I settled for it with the hope of staying connected to the bright sweetness of the watermelon’s pink flesh.

Dear Small Girl, 

     Please, please just ask for a new slice. 

With Love, 

Lessons Learned.

Depression

She whispers in your ear that it's okay

That sinking back down is fine

The discomfort becomes a marinade

To soak in, to simmer, to lie
She wraps you in a cold blanket
Chills you until your body aches
Numbs you to the point you think - 

Won't it be nice for a minute?

To bathe in warm tears and call it an illness?