Jen and Jodi

if i destructed would it matter
to anyone other than my mother
strong is the easiest facade I’ve ever
portrayed
i just have to walk away
before i crumble because then
you will never know how long i
rested
on my knees
outwardly i live love
internally i attempt to
fight
the blinding pain
just to figure out
why I don’t matter

Burn

Lover,
The lies you
left have lingered
longer than locusts.

Ok, so the whole purpose is to conquer my fear but in reality am I adding to my repertoire of frustration and procrastination?

I don’t know the exact date but I wrote this a long time ago before I became aware that I had a choice.

A word; letter; hope

A scope of things boggle the mind

Behind the door I sit and wait

Bait ignorance and pretense

The dead bolt in place

I attempt to erase

Every adjective of you

But glued I sit and ponder

Confined by my own doubt

Out come the demons

I pretend to not hear

Fear grips and I am stagnant

Content in that moment to drown

Down every second: each blow

I know bliss awaits in the melancholy

another wanna be

I’ve been working on this one for a while but think, towards the end, I lose focus.  Feedback would be nice, if you have the inclination.

 

The veil I wear

Ain’t no Dixie Flag, apron,

Weddin’ ring or cryin’ kid.

Like red ecclesiastical velvet or

The shackles of my father.

Wrinkles emerge from the burden.

 

Others can’t see

The bona fide me.

 

So, lately, I’ve tried to peek;

Been to the gym and church

Done what I could to

Relieve my load:

Lift like a bodybuilder;

Drink grape juice from a tiny plastic cup.

 

Still others don’t want to see

The bona fide me.

 

Sometimes I run the 1600

In five flat. Sprint

From every visage not

Muddled by something.

Clarity is my kryptonite.

Why lift the veil?

 

Others refuse to see     

The bona fide me.

 

Crafted by a maiden of Troy:

Passed through generations.

Secrecy and strength in intricate threads of  

Red; black; blue; gold. Untold stories

In each stitch.  Able to perceive

Only the want to be you in me.

 

Others believe they see

The bona fide me

 

 

The iconoclast

Yet antithetical and oxymoronic;

I foresee the unfulfilled expectations;

The ensuing muck and mire

Of misplaced hopefulness

The veiled me is the one you want to see

 

Because of all of this,

I often fail the bona fide me

 

Hello

So, here it is-whatever it is.  I am new to the blogging world and am here because I am petrified of many a thing.  Technology and allowing people to read my writing are two.  Whomever you are, thanks for stopping by and spending your time here.

 

 

Where do I go?

The road forks left and right.

Similar, the choice seems inconsequential.

Except I hear your faint voices.

The conversation; I imagine bits and pieces

Each of you have divulged.

Your portion;

Views, judgments, and truths.

Subjectively

 

I wait and see

If there is an I in me.

Does she dare to speak, dane to be seen?

A reflection of the you;

The dream

Would make her easier for you to see.

 

She waits; mostly patiently.

Quiet, then stifling giggles, imagining tea parties,

Dirty frocks and

Bare feet, rolled up sleeves and a bottle of Jack, Jim, him.

She sits at the end of the day,

When shadows leave their mark:

Alone.

 

Pondering how to explain that lost

Is the best definition of found;

That even though the black abyss has enveloped me,

I am far from gone and if you remove the blindfolds

I , me , myself am here for you to see.