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end-of daughter. - Subscribe
I put away
every sharp object:
pin and blade
and dangerous edge.

I still don't
trust myself
with scissors,
even these days.

Part of loving
oneself is
knowing how far
that love extends.

Part of being
a family is
knowing you'll
have to leave.

How far I've come,
to stand here and
to hold myself up -
courage, pride, strength.

I break so easily -
tears to drown me;
rage to scream
at you endlessly -

because I'm guilty
of knowing that
these days are
numbered few.

Regret sits
on the back step
with the pumpkin
we didn't carve

this year, because
I wasn't here -
unwanted, unaddressed
and necessary.

I'm not
your little girl
anymore -
I'm so sorry.

I didn't mean
to go
and grow up
and go away.

I stare at my wrists
hating time
for dragging me on
through life;

for tearing us
apart and
casting me
into future.

Oh, how I
want to remain -

I'm not your
little girl now,

but I'll always be
your daughter

and I'll always be
your big sister;

I'll always want
this house; I'll

never leave.

I put away
the scissors, and
my ink
and all my words.

I chose to live
that night, years ago,
for you, so now
I have to go.

Part of
being a family -
however torn,
however mad -

is knowing
you'll never
have to leave,
right?

I'll always have
what you gave me:
courage, pride,
strength and love;

and I'll always
be your daughter
your big sister -
always belong.
2 Comments
Mood: unhappy

end-of wintersleep Nov 21st, 2008 5:39:58 pm - Subscribe
don't know
why words like
snowflakes fall

no reason but
to speak of
the coming tide

subtle beauty
night calling
I desire only

words like
sunlight piercing
to warm me

bitter season
winter winds
now rending

words from
me like boughs
from treetops

to scatter on
frozen earth
like snowflakes

freeze still the
cheerful spring
of poetry

my white forest
empty, silent,
brittle, waits

no warmth
in words
to thaw us

don't know
why words like
snowflakes drift

unable to tempt
summer back
to this place.
1 Comments
Mood: sleepy.

end-of rest in peace. Nov 27th, 2008 11:08:17 pm - Subscribe
I don't want
numbers
they blur the page
before my eyes
a body count

even less
do I want
names
the missing
the grieving

another night
to mourn
and days of
sorrow coming

fear and fire
on the
blue green planet

as we slaughter
our people
ourselves
mass devastation

brother
sister
torture,
terror

we do not
forget
rest in peace
you die not
in vain
rest in peace

rest in peace
and may peace
take you home

we do not
forget
they cannot
forgive

my apocalypse
slithers near
waiting to strike
watching you

tearing the
beating heart
out of the world.
2 Comments
Mood: exhausted.