Unexpected Visits

I barely recognize you.

It’s been years

since I last saw you.

Come sit down,

tell me about your

life.

Oh stop it,

don’t cry over

how much you miss me.

Your tears are as useless as

pennies in today’s society.

I’m always right here.

I want to hear about you.

If this was about me,

you would come over more often,

maybe hang out like we used to.

All I want is for you to stop

every once and a while and pop in,

say “Hi.”

So go ahead,

you know I always keep

secrets,

I can give the Big Guy

any message you want.

That’s why you’re here right?

To ask me to tell the

man in charge your sorrows

and get you help fixing them?

Sorry,

I wasn’t listening

what did you say?

Don’t be upset

I was just ignoring you like you do me.

Where are you

going?

You have to leave already?

You’re a busy bee aren’t you?

No it’s okay I’ll be right here next time

you need me.

Resting all day like a kitten,

rotting like an old banana peel,

waiting longer than Forrest waited on Jenny,

just make sure you don’t step

on my true friends on you way out.

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Drowning

I feel a gripping tightness in my chest,
struggling to get to the surface like

a child who can’t swim

for just one breath.

The immense fear of

failure is holding me under.

I know how to swim

kick, kick,

that’s all there is to it.

Yet, why am I unable to achieve success?

Is it the depth of where I am?

Water so deep and dark, like the

unknown of outer space.

Feeling nothing beneath me

causing me more fear.

Or is it the uncertainty

of what’s surrounding me?

Lost, having no clue where

I am, like a lost puppy in a big city.

The water sloshes around me

like a water slide, as I paddle

towards the surface,

but this isn’t fun like that.

There is still something

in my way, and I have no idea what.

Whatever it is I’m terrified,

and I can’t hold my breath

any longer.

A sonnet for a sonnet

Your idea stirs inside my head,

as I greatly await your birth.

Without you my major is dead,

and I sit here without worth.

 

One day in the future soon,

I shall teach about your form.

Knowledge flowing like a typhoon,

students minds will transform.

 

Back to the present,

as I sit here and think.

Rearranging words, trying to invent,

almost successful, on the brink.

 

Finally my masterpiece is done.

“Ha-ha poem, this time I won!”

Tears of Love

The starchy smell of pasta fills this empty soul.

I breathe it in timidly, knowing what tonight has in store.

Red like the roses on the table, my face shows my fear,

a fear that’s lurking deep within my mind.

He sits my dinner in front of me,

alfredo sauce spilling over the edges

like a pool with too much water.

My stomach churning, I eat very little.

Fear of what is coming makes me ill.

He takes my hand for comfort as dinner concludes,

yet the main course still awaits.

More roses this time lying like a blanket,

candles giving off just enough light,

I begin to tremble and choke up.

Am I ready for this change?

He sees the hesitation in my eyes as tears begin to drop like rain.

Like a newborn baby being thrust into a world unknown,

I cry and breathe heavy in a panic.

Feeling scared and safe at the same time,

I fall deeper and deeper.

Nothing can harm me in his arms.

The only comforting thing is him talking me through this.

“It doesn’t have to happen yet,” he says.

If not now, when?

I calm down and decide I’m ready

to change my life forever.

I’m ready to risk everything

to be in this moment with him.

Do I want to let him use the sword

God gave him to

knight me and give me worth?

Should I let him finally make me a woman

in God’s eyes?

With an impulse I go forward

with the plans.

Tears being to trickle from my eyes again

as we finish the task at hand.

Heavy breaths, sweaty bodies,

and soft gazes exchanged, we lay in silence,

unsure of what we feel now.

The thing just occurred has blurred my mind.

Right now the only thing controlling me is my heart,

and the only thing I’m positive of is

that I don’t think I’ll ever love you anymore

than I do in this moment.

Is It Regret?

As I look at Lock Haven outside my window,

I stare at the mountain covered in the beautiful

changing trees of fall

as vibrant as the sky at dusk.

So many shades of auburn and golden yellow

blowing across the streets.

 

This book about powerful

professional poets rains on my mood,

all of the stories I read are as bleak

as my eggshell colored walls.

Much like the housework I’m avoiding,

I keep finding other things to do instead of read.

I can’t help but lose myself

in thought as I sit here.

 

Why am I in the middle of Pennsylvania?

Why am I in a town

where the cornfields and

trees are as tall as

skyscrapers,

and there’s a church with ringing bells

around every corner?

 

Why am I in the mountains

where it snows so much

you feel like you’re at the North Pole?

The wind whips across your face.

It stings like a jelly fish

touching your bare skin,

and there’s nowhere to escape the cold.

Where you can wear seven layers of clothes

just to walk to class and still freeze

by the time you arrive.

 

I could have ended up anywhere on the globe,

like sunny California where it never snows,

or the busy streets of New York

where there are real skyscrapers,

somewhere where there are rooftop parties,

or big extravagant events like movie

premieres and celebrity meet ups to attend,

or even a beach to get away from all the stresses of life.

 

But alas my heart chose tiny

little Lock Haven,

where you can go to Texas

every night,

and still be back to finish your readings,

which I still have to do.

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These Exausting Minutes

“I’m sorry your call has been disconnected”

 

My worst fear has become a sickening reality.

All of your verbal daggers visibly hanging out of my heart,

I lose my ability to breathe, to think, to feel anything

but numbness.

 

As I gaze around my bedroom, the photos cause the rain

of love to pour from my eyes.

My whole body shaking, shivering, I am stuck

in this moment with no control.

I feel my heart seeping out,

like a broken pen

in my pocket, staining me

with the memories I don’t want to feel.

 

What do I do now? Who do I call?

I lose myself in fear of loneliness.

With the tattoo of you on these years of my

life, I am no longer

settled with the idea of loneliness.

I know my mind is an impossible puzzle,

but my heart is far worse.

So do I dial that number burned into my brain?

I have very little faith you’ll be on the other end.

 

For fear of all this becoming to real,

I don’t hit call.

I leave you to extinguish your fire.

but with each moment passing,

I can’t resist poking

the bear. As the line rings,

this time my heart sinks

further into my stomach

with each passing second.

When it stops, I hold my breath,

as “I’m sorry” billows from the other line.

And in that moment, that’s all it takes

to end these minutes of madness.

Coming Soon (2014)

 

Your Big Break,

finally you’re the star.

On opening night everyone you know shows up,

just to see you. All dressed up,

you await the start.

Everyone approaches their seats and waits silently.

 

The previews begin to play.

Your parents meet at that dirty bar

years ago, your mother starts to fall

for your father,

and after effortless tries they await your arrival.

It’s show time.

The lights dim so it’s easier to see.

 

You were an adorable child.

Spending those early years

playing with your mom,

starting school in those perfect

white tennis shoes,

seeing memories that you’ve always cherished

and ones you’d love to forget.

 

Every laugh from those jokes grandpa told you,

every tear shed because of those boys,

you know those ones from high school,

even those unplanned sleepovers you had

because you drank a little to much

to go home to your parents.

You really see everything,

whether you want to or not.

 

College is next,

your favorite scenes

as you watch and crunch your popcorn,

thinking to yourself,

“Sorry Mom.”

 

As the film progresses,

the sound track changes

with every problem that arises.

It speeds up when that boy in the 8th

grade kisses you,

it gets dark and gloomy through

the fire scenes,

the toughest to watch.

 

Life isn’t perfect.

There are perfect parts,

but they aren’t always as good as the bad.

 

Show the scenes that almost got cut.

Make the audience uncomfortable;

that’s what life does to us.

It’s just a chain of hard uncomfortable moments,

with some stress-free ones in-between.

 

Once the credits start to roll,

the bulbs burn brighter

so bright that it’s all you can see.

What happens next?

Reviews?

Critics?

Eternal fame?

 

I’m not sure,

but I’ll keep listening to my director,

 

I’m not ready to stop filming,

fame can wait.

love…

He puts me though hell, but I call it love

Controlling me, but I call it protection

Yelling and cursing, but I say he’s just making his point

Telling me what to do, but I call it guidance

I’m not wrong, he’s protecting me

guiding me to answers I need

Making impacts with every word he barks at me….

but is he protecting me or himself?

There shouldn’t be good and bad days

We shouldn’t have a public relationship to show as we cover our real one

I shouldn’t be living like this

Because he puts me through hell, but

I call it

LOVE