One

Dripping down

One drop

One leaf

It’s coming down

Falling down

Quietly

A change of pace

Slow to a stop

A moment

Toothbrush

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I glance at the bathroom. The door is wide open. I can hear the water running in the shower. The sheet has fallen to the floor and I lay on the bare bed. It’s stained and worn. I see something that looks like blood and wonder who else has laid on this bare bed with the sheet fallen to the floor. It smells musty. A bit old, maybe almost rotten, yet somehow I like the smell. It smells familiar and comfortable, yet I’ve never been here. I look back into the bathroom. The mirror is foggy from the steam and drips onto the counter. There’s a glass jar. I notice a toothbrush. It’s frailed with green grips, but there’s another. This one seems fresh. The grips are pink. Pink. Would he have a second toothbrush for himself that is pink? Or have I done it again? Laid and somehow betrayed. I shuttered at the thought. It feels like just yesterday I faced a girl with a broken heart. Who wanted to blame me, to hate me, and maybe she did, but more she hated herself for loving him. I can’t do this again. I can’t face this other toothbrush. I grab my clothes. I rush out unexplained.

That Moment

I think it is good to have that moment

The moment you look back and feel deep melancholy

You see what is lost and mistakes made

But you see it with satisfaction, heartache, but satisfaction

Because now you know

Now you know that’s what had to happen for you to be where you are and love who you love and miss who you miss

I think it is good to have that moment

To love too much

Why is it I give everyone my all and leave nothing for myself?  We are hearts flowing. Downstream my love pours until I run dry.

Cease to exist

So who am I
If my word is not spoken
Does my story persist
If my voice is broken
So who am I
If nameless I remain
My ideas cease to exist
My lips abstain
So who am I
A body of pain
Intelligence dismissed
No truth to explain
So who am I

Time lost

How strange to think that this moment will only be a memory.

She Cried Why

Freestyle with my ukulele. A story of child abuse.

To numb her mind

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Broken

She forms another line

only way to numb the mind

no words spoken

can get her out of this bind

all the love left behind

denial of a woman outspoken

her hopes and reality never aligned

falling in love seemed ill timed

a heart that couldn’t bare another emotion

she breathes it in line after line

numbing, killing her mind