You come with needle and thread in hand
could you be the tailor of my heart
here to mend that which has been
torn
ripped
stretched too far
the seams tattered
frazzled
and split
worn down to nothing in some spots
like a child’s beloved teddy bear
tell me it’s not beyond repair
whisper in my ear,
“I can patch this with kisses, and kindnesses, and make it look new again.”
Photo Credit: nonetta.deviantart.com
If life were a card game
there would be no
championship, no tournament
for me
I can’t bluff
I don’t have a poker face
I don’t know when to hold ’em
or when to fold ’em
No ace in the hole
No see you, no raise you
No call, no fold
spread
squeeze play
stud
suck out
tainted out
texture
tilt
tight
I’m a wild card baby
an irregular declaration
a maniac
So ante up
with your deep stack
go all in
push
I’m an exposed card
What you see is what you get. . . .
Do you see it?
Maybe you missed it
Hidden behind my independence
My brashness and sarcasm
The word “fuck” flying out of my mouth at record speed
The unconventional hairdo
The tattoos
I don’t think it’s hard to see if you know what you’re looking for
Stop and look again.
Do you see the smile?
The kindness in the eyes?
The love for family and friends?
The loyalty to those I care about?
My kindness towards animals?
My sense of humor and wit?
My willingness to make an ass out of myself to hear other’s laughter?
You still don’t see it?
Then you must not be the man for me.
I drew my line in the sand.
“Don’t cross it,” I told you.
You didn’t listen, so I tried to tell you again.
In different ways.
“This is my personal space, and I don’t want you in it.”
“You’re using up too much of my air and I’m finding it difficult to breathe.”
“I won’t allow you to swallow me whole, like I’m sure you’ve done to so many others.”
But once again, you didn’t listen.
So I walked away.
where were you when I was 20
and reckless
my heart and soul
and legs
spread open wide
for all to see the depth of me
where were you when I was 30
and apprehensive
my mind and heart
and legs
closed to him
because he didn’t understand the depth of me
where were you when I was 40
and fearful
my soul and heart
and arms
padlocked to all
because I had been wounded to my very core
you are here when I am 44
and exhausted
my mind and heart
and soul
only wanting to
find that one man with the untarnished key
You might possibly have saved me from myself
tripping
stumbling
falling
into something that wasn’t good for me
Are you really that wise?
Wise enough to hold a hand out
to stop the descent
Into the madness that is me
in love
honesty
tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth
don’t leave any parts out
life is messy
as long as I don’t have to clean up for you
open it up
let it spill
spew forth from your reality
tell all, like one of those trash mags at the checkout stand of the local grocery store
I can handle the truth
even if you can’t
I can envelop your unfettered banter
and inhale it into my soul
like an unfiltered Lucky Strike
though it may be poison
your truth tastes so good
**Once again. . . this shit is mine. . .these words might not be much, but they’re all I have. . .copyrights and some such shit. . .
Yesterday a poem of mine, entitled “Blow the Fucking House Down”, was featured on We Poets Show it (though they used the word blowing, instead of blow in the title–oops). If you didn’t see it when I previously posted it here on my page, go over there and check it out. While you’re at it, look around, check out some of the other forms of creative expression they feature.
one track mind
one for the road
one too many
one thing leads to another
one night stand
one day at a time
one way ticket
one way to rock
one stop shop
one way street
one hit wonder
one and done
one shot one kill
one fell swoop
one for the record books
one of these days
one in a million
one singular obsession
one way or another
one that got away
one is the loneliest number
Fiction, and other made-up stories
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