poem – Page 11 – The Messy Middle 🖤

Cloudless.

The drought slowly kills everything.

It cracks the earth.

Dehydrates the plants.

Makes me question my worth.

Dries out my hands.

Been praying for rain,

to bring back some life.

You can’t bring back, what’s lost its fight.

–S.

Right behind you.

Taking care of you –

is healing the child that never grew up in me.

My only wish for you,

is that you’re better than I ever got to be.

–S.

Death Toll.

I’m losing the war –

that no one knows about.

I’m losing the war –

that’s without a doubt.

I’m losing the war –

going on within me,

just another casualty.

–S.

Packing Up.

The rodeo tore through town.

The carnival packed up and left.

I thought we’d be better by August.

I should’ve been more honest.

–S.

Teething Stage.

We’re in the teething stage.

Feverish.

Grumpy.

I can’t tell if you even want me.

We’re in the teething stage.

I think before it gets better, it’s going to get ugly.

We’re in the teething stage.

Uncomfortable.

Sometimes swollen.

Sometimes bloody.

We’re in the teething stage.

I shouldn’t have to try this hard for you to love me.

–S.

Shoebox.

Should I wear a heel,

or go for a suede feel?

Should I wear something leather,

pleather,

or scrap that idea altogether?

Should I tie up my laces,

will it get me faster to places?

Should I pick something with spikes,

or a pair meant for hikes?

Should I throw on some combat boots,

or stick to my roots?

Whatever I decide,

it can’t make me sway,

I don’t know what shoes to wear to walk away.

–S.

Goodnight Moon.

Goodnight butterflies.

Goodnight fireflies.

Goodnight crying eyes.

Goodnight laughing kisses,

and every day blisses.

Goodnight you.

Goodnight me.

Goodnight to all of the things we didn’t get to be.

Goodnight to all we did not see.

Goodnight love,

and goodnight again, to all of the above.

–S.

Teacher.

The world is trying to teach me how to let go.

I fall asleep in class,

or I barely even go.

Fall is trying to show me how to shed and how to grow.

I don’t care,

and I simply don’t want to know.

I don’t want to leave,

but nothing burns up slow.

–S.

Seasons change, but I don’t.

Fall is calling.

Leaves are falling.

I’m rooted in place.

Fall is calling.

Leaves are falling.

There are things I still can’t face.

Fall is calling.

Leaves are falling.

I don’t let go.

I wait.

–S.

Woman in the Mirror.

I’m mad at god.

I want to cuss out the devil.

I’m not speaking to destiny,

and I blocked fate.

Convinced I have bad luck,

and I’m half woman, half hate.

I’m on a highway,

could be to heaven, or straight to hell.

I’m having a hard time forgiving myself.

So, I dwell.

–S.