Losing Myself

If you leave me the fog may settle around me

Black clouds may float above me, following me forever

Rain may pour down upon me in torrents

The earth may split before me, swallowing me

I may succumb to the inevitable and lose myself

If you don’t leave me I will surely suffer

I will cry torrents; I will drown in my own tears

My mind will crack, I will definitely lose myself

I will pray for the world to swallow me up

I will wallow in my pity forever

I beg you, let me go



Poetry 101 rehab – Reflection


Standing before my window
reflection peering back at me
Tears flowing from her eyes
dripping from her chin
She looks so sad and broken
she looks so much like me
Knowing my eyes aren’t crying
a smile upon my face
I touch my fingers to my cheek
and wipe her tears away
This dismal midnight reflection
forever tells the truth

A Little Madness

She had rolled and thrashed around in the king sized bed all night, unable to sleep alone in this big bed and overheated at this stage of life. Menopause, it certainly gave her men pause, they couldn’t stand to be in her bitchy company. Not that she blamed them; still it irritated her, as everything did recently.

She threw back the sodden sheets, rose and stretched. She peeled her damp nightdress over her head as she wandered to the window. Pulling back the sheer white curtain she was surprised to see that it had snowed during the night, unexpected and early to her thinking, also unwelcome.  Damn she said to no one. She headed to the bathroom for another early morning shower; this is getting old, showering before bed and again at rising. Suddenly she thought to herself, why? She grabbed the comforter from the bed and headed down the stairs, careful to avoid tripping over the blanket as she hurried down.

She ran through the kitchen and out the back door dropping the quilt on her way out the door. Running across the back deck she slipped, grabbed the railing to steady herself and stepped down the stairs. She had been moving so fast she hadn’t felt the cold on her feet until now. She ran out into the yard and threw herself into the snow, rolling across the lawn. Laughing like a mad woman she rolled as far as she could and stopped in a rather large drift. She sat up, looked around and dove over the drift where she proceeded to lay on her back and make a snow angel, the first one in over forty years.  Satisfied she jumped to her feet, her arms wrapped around herself and surveyed her work. Freaking fantastic came to mind and so did the fact that her skin felt as though it were on fire. She looked down and saw that her breasts looked like red balloons and her hands and feet were almost purple. As she headed quickly toward the house she saw old Ellen, the neighbor, watching her from her window, a perplexed and horrified look on her wrinkled face. Waving and smiling Traci darted through the door and into the kitchen where she grabbed the blue quilt from the floor.

She wrapped herself up tightly and headed upstairs to the bathroom. She was shaking so hard she could barely turn the water on. As she waited for the water to get hot she looked at herself in the large mirror over the counter. Her mousy hair wet and plastered to her head, her skin red and pimpled with goose bumps. It was the chattering smile on her face that interested her the most, almost alien to her. It had been so long that she did not recognize herself as she studied her face in the mirror. Now shaking, almost uncontrollably, she turned and stepped into the hot shower. She yelped as the hot needles pricked her skin. And then she began to laugh like the madwoman that she had become.

Ashes in My Heart

My memories of you? I packed them up and

built myself a pyre, where they could do no harm.
When I thought of you it burned a hole,
and left ashes in my heart.
I no longer feel, your memories no longer raw.

You wove a spiders web of dreams and then you
lit them up. A smile on your cruel lips as your
vacant eyes watched them burn.
In the ashes where you belong,
how do you keep creeping back?


Texas Summer (My first attempt at a short story)

The rain had settled the dust on the track, not enough to make mud, just enough to keep it from clouding around her boots. She could see the diamond drops on the grass along the trail as she watched the butterflies stop to drink from the tall grasses. It would be muggy before too long, just enough rain to up the humidity. She hated humidity, that constant wet soggy feeling on your clothes. And what it did to her hair, unbelievable. She joked she looked like a dandelion gone to seed but that’s how she felt especially now that her hair had gone gray or platinum as she liked to think.

God knows why she left the house in jeans and boots, at least she’d put on a tank top, not that it mattered. The sweat ran down her face, through her eyes, and dripped off her chin. Her shirt was soaked already and stuck to her ribs. Her sports bra was soaked and her nipples showed. She longed to strip down and dive into the creek. Suck it up girl this isn’t a walk in the park.

Some fool had left the gate open and the dog had run off, again. Each time it happened she swore she would give the dog away, tired of her shit, literally. She never failed to run into the cow pens and roll in the shit, and then she headed to the horse stalls and ate horse shit. Gross. What would make a dog do such a thing? She was well fed and cared for. Perhaps something was missing in her diet. She’d read that people who were lacking minerals in their diets would eat dirt. Whatever, it was gross.

She didn’t blame the dog for taking a romp, she was lacking in exercise, cooped up all day. Why couldn’t she just head for the fields and run it out? Take a dip in the clean creek instead of the cattle pond filled with cow shit. Evie couldn’t find her on the farm and assumed that she had had her fun and run off toward the woods to chase squirrels. That’s what inspired the boots and jeans; briars, snakes, and spiders. Evie wished she’d grabbed a bottle of water on the way out the door. It must be close to a hundred degrees already and it wasn’t noon yet. God she hated Texas in the summer.

She walked along the track calling the dog, she really needed to name her, damn you didn’t sound good ringing in the air. However, it did make her laugh. Come here damn you, come on damn you. It didn’t matter what she called the stupid dog she wouldn’t listen anyway.

Evie came upon the old abandoned bridge. She had forgotten about it, it had been such a long time since she’d come this way. She had heard that there used to be a farm trail leading to town many years ago. The bridge was still here but probably not safe for anything but foot traffic. The river that once flowed under the bridge was long gone, rerouted to serve the community. Still it was pretty cool. She used to come here as a child and sit and make up stories about the bridge and the trips it afforded the local people. Families loaded on buckboards headed to town and church, semiannual trips to community gatherings for picnics and dances.  Sometimes she wished that she had lived back then, and then she came to her senses.


Wanting You

Tears like acid burn my eyes

Sear rivers down my cheeks

Roll across my moistened lips

Still begging for your kiss

Arms aching at my sides

Longing to reach for you

As you walk away

Never looking back

Can you feel the heat?

Desire melting me

A pool where I stood

Your reflection it’s veneer


She Haunts Him

He sits in a jar on Mandy’s dresser
It’s where he’s lived for years
When I heard that he was gone
It broke my heart, brought tears

I loved him many years ago
We each chose a separate path
I’ve thought of him so many times
No idea that he’d passed

I pray that he found happiness
That he made peace with his ghosts
He spent much of his life slaying them
Half his life he was their host