This Shirt

I used to have a shirt, not a blouse, it was definitely a shirt hanging in my closet. I made sure it was always clean, it was after all, my favorite shirt. I loved it because of the way it hung on my curves, or rather the way it didn't. It wasn't revealing or feminine and it wasn't refrained or masculine. This shirt, the color of burnt ash matched any mood I might be in on any particular day. I flowed with a sense of purpose in this shirt. This shirt clung not only to my body, but to my mind, my soul and my spirit. It was who I am inside and out!

The first time we met, I was wearing this shirt. This shirt gave me confidence and in my minds eye, sex appeal. I doubt anyone else saw what I saw when I looked in the mirror. Most people are this way, living their lives being directed by the reins rather than holding them themselves. I don't mind so much because I have a sense of freedom from knowing what they don't. Because of that fact, this shirt gave me the confidence I needed to walk right over and smile my most sensational smile, and say hello! The smile and hello were returned and I do believe that at that precise moment, I was not the only one who saw something special, in this shirt. I was grateful.

For many years we were inseparable. That's something I've never been able to say before, so I knew this shirt must have magic! This shirt brought us together, and it was rewarded by being worn over and over again. This shirt gave me 8 faithful years. I loved this shirt!

I'm not sure which came first, the dying of this shirt or the dying of our relationship. This shirt became the center of hatred and eye rolling, and the mouthing of words, "Oh God, please not this shirt again! I'm so sick of this shirt!" Did my shirt lose its magic, or had I? No sooner had this shirt lost its appeal, so had our relationship. I was back to being the only one who saw something special when I looked in the mirror.

This shirt hung in the closet, never to be touched again. But the pain of seeing it there hurt too much, and I was forced to put it to rest. This burnt ash colored shirt that had given me so much deserved no less. As I sat on the side of the bed saying my last goodbyes, one of the last 4 buttons that still hung on, rolled down the sleeve onto the floor, just as a tear rolled down my cheek.

I often think of this shirt, and the magic it had within its fibers. Deep down a part of me wishes we had never met.

Blood Stains

Sitting on the bed,
Feet dangling.
Hands over ears
Couldn’t stop the stabbing voices
From behind the door.
His name bounced off
Every wall,
And every once in awhile,
Mine too.
My own blood,
Stains from a moment of
Heated passion.
Door slung open,
Smiles fixed,
Eyes pouring arsenic
Into my soul.

The vinyl slid out of its’ sleeve,
The speakers bumping so loud
My screams went unheard.
The beer cans stacked
On the counter, one by one.
He sang and danced,
gyrating hips, like the ones that were
too sinful to be on tv
like the man he just cursed.
Becoming him
If just for a night.

Picking up my Holly Hobbie
I whispered my fears into her ears.
The secret pocket
Under her rag dress
Held a piece of glass
I found on the step.
That was the first time
I tried to drain the blood
That would dry the
Tears of resentment.

thoughts about dying...

When the shell withers
the soul is reborn in the womb of the universe,
flourishing in its' passion.....

Pussyfoot

The cat has been crying
under the window pane
for five nights in a row.
A couple of times
she left a plate of milk,
giving a pat or two
on top of its’ head,
in hopes, it would feel
enough love to move along.
But to let it in
is more than she can bare.
The cat has too many issues,
missing a few teeth
and in a few spots,
scars lay where the fur had once been.
She puts up a wall,
feeling only relief
when the crying stops.

ConstRain

with the stale dampness
lingering in the air,
her stream
opened up to me
showering me with
her gentleness.
my thirst, quenched,
every pore, saturated
my clothing, my hair
drenched with the
memory of you.
today, sitting in the
constant rain,
I felt the trickling
splendor of your caresses.

Addiction

On odd days
The wind blows
With a grin, cause she knows
My weaknesses,
Encompassing every fiber,
Bringing me to my knees.
Swirling, lurking, waiting,
Till my feet are steady.
Welcoming it
With dreaded anticipation
Again, she blows
With suffocating comfort
Allowing me to feel
The familiar chill
Of past storms.

bridle lane

A street made of bricks,
harder than knuckles
the grudging cars never speed upon.
with calculated measure
the lined trees
never blow, and
the leaves never fall.
uniformed houses,
nicely fenced
with locks that never open.
you won’t find it
on any map’
cause it prefers
to go unnoticed.

the cries of hope

Sifting through the scattered
fragments of trust, Hope,
a beautiful thing she was
but too naive to avoid
the suffering.
every breath, she
sacrificed, for the
suffocating went
unnoticed…

orderly chaos

secluded, in the
thick of the pasture
the blanket
fixed beneath me
the puff of a
storm, draws the
chill closer
thrusting its’ wrath
deeply inside,
exposed in the blanket
covering what’s
left of me
the storm hits,
quietly

dead ringer

some broke
some breaking
from the clutches
of the clink
the chat hole
sitting in the corner,
resuscitation ringing
from a soulless machine
don’t ask me how
we just know
when the same pain
is reflecting back
together we sit
before the illumination
the search for the key
is over

Hellcat

Ready for combat
Slingin’ your words
For me to swallow
Like slick pie.
Sorry, but
I ain’t your fall guy,
Don’t bring it to me
Cause you see
The point of a spat
Is not to skew
Me to you
But allow me to be
Despite the blat!

septentrional

the star
it ignites
radiating comfort
to those that are
searching
lighting the way
to places
I never knew
existed
within my own
heart

the focus

Three Piles Of Rubbish,
To Three Black Crows
One, A Treasure
Worth Fighting For.
That One Pile
Their Only Focus,
They Peck
They Claw
Spreading Their Wings,
They Look Like Giants
The Battle Of One
Against The Others
Rages On
Moving Further Away
From The Treasure
Winning, Now
The Only Focus!
waiting patiently
in the distance
a flock of dove,
swoop in
sharing all
until the last one
has its fill,
full with their treasure,
together
they fly
never losing
the focus

Maybe

In a time
10, 20, 50
100 years,
maybe
You will
Feel what’s in
My heart.
Eagerly
Without fight
Maybe, you will see
In me
What I already see
In you.
That tender place
Between your jaw
And shoulder, you’ll
Lean into
The zing
From my lips.
Maybe
In a time
Past the fear.

undisclosed

holding the key
she minds the store
without knowing
it exist….

dissonance

death,
the seducer
wantonly
plays me.
luckily
it sucks
at the game of
seduction.

Just Like Before

Washing dishes
Folding laundry
Watching her
on t.v.makes it tolerable.
The phone jolts me
out of my grind.
8:50
Sunday night,
can’t be the man
with a
hand in my pocket.
Hello!
Hi?
the voice from the past
echoes again
and again.
Fuck!
is the thought
hello?
is what escapes.
She creeps,
slithers, weaving
in and out.
She says it is
and so it has become,
in her mind.
BUT!
This time
my wallet stays put
her lies
I don’t buy….
until!
off button clicked.
Somehow, even now
it sticks
just like before.
pacing
hair stroking
smoking
drinking
swearing
repeat
repeat
repeat
repeat
Damn it!
somebody hide my wallet!

the dwelling

a dark, cold room
a scattering of dust
here and there.
four walls
two doors on each,
just in case…
in the center
a locked desk,
with only one key
containing
a book of words,
scissors,
a whip,
a radio,
an empty box,
and an extra pair
of shoes…

thinking

Today, I thought
of you
and then
I decided, maybe
I should
think again…

A Dream From Last Night

She told me she liked the little oranges
the ones with the seeds.
She likes them better than
the ones I bought.

Sally is just that way
sharing everything
holding nothing back.

She knows me,
Well.
My buttons,
When to leave me
the hell alone.
When I’m taking myself
oh too seriously
She makes me laugh.

A friend

Last Tuesday,
I was being a pain
in the ass.
Me?
Little ol’ me…
HA!
It was a
you need to chill
moment.

From her lips, fell
the most peculiar thing.

What do you think about
the supermodel with the large cat?

OH MY!
The places a mind can go.
But she knew
the right thing to do,
at that moment.

A friend of mine

From my lips fell,
the only thing
I could say.

I hear it has been known to purr
loudly, late at night.

I had to borrow
a pair of her undies…

Don’t get me wrong,
Sally’s not perfect.
I don’t mind.

A friend of mine, if only

She’s starting to
take up a lot of bad habits.
The latest one,
Spitting
when she’s nervous.
Rickie, the hot
Barista
makes her really nervous.
You know
where that leads!

Being with Sally
is better than
the smell of
Grandma’s leftovers
from Thanksgiving.

Sally and me
will always be
like a child
with wings
when we’re together.

A friend of mine, if only in my dreams.