Springcleaning

Fragments, flotsam, detritus from the diaries. Perhaps one day i'll find a use for them. And then again, perhaps they just needed to be swept out to make place for new ones. Or, perhaps, they'll spark something off in you. Here they are, my stunted children.

On finding an old diary
Old lines
Old loves
Raw words
Raw emotions
Wish i could feel them now
that i know how
to write
and love.

Last lines
In love for the first time...
Been there, done that, wrote the poems
Now, i’m ready for the last time.
Don’t want to write any more poems.

All 4 you
Today was a 4 poem day
’coz that’s the way i cry.
That makes you a 4 poem girl.
Happy?

The pain
the lies
The whens
the whys.
I’ve been there
before.
So why
do i
when i’m safe
and dry
want to dive in
again?

You’re everything I want to be
Do all the things I want to do
I’m consumed with jealousy
For a little while, can’t I be you?

Missing the bus
Do we settle, some of us, for someone
who loves us,
giving up hope that the one we love
will settle for us?

she who painted
Put some blue in the sky
A smidgen in your eye
Then do the same for all of me

There are two things
I still like to do
with my eyes closed.
Sit down beside you.
And sleep.

You
no money
and a deadline.
Why is it
always a
gangbang?

Found her.
But she,
she’s not
looking for me.

A teddy bear
is always there.
Around somewhere.
Whether or not
You care.
A little threadbare,
a cut, a tear.
Teddy bears
are always there.