Match to a Flame

The drop of a match causes the explosion,
a heart ripped to shreds by a candle’s flame,
goodbye’s dance with shadows on the walls,
a small glow of hope flickering with the sound
of a silent farewell.
A single breath of possibilities blows out
with the sparks of tomorrow’s forest fire,
and the rain washes away the remains of yesterday.

What’s In A Name?

I called you best friend so often that
when the time came to remember your
name, I couldn’t. And that’s how I lost
you.

Social media proves to be a useful way
to rekindle relationships with people
you no longer see regularly,
Unless you shamefully forget the name
of the one you shamelessly told
every thing to.

The one who held your secrets like
the hand of a loved one. The one
you let trust you with their problems
the same you trust a bank-teller your
pin number.

And suddenly, I became a bank-teller,
you trusted me with every thing that
could make or break you, but I could
not remember your name the next day.

And every time I want to find you, and
tell you I made a mistake, that the
withdrawal was too big, I can’t find the
pin that your name has become, a four
digit code that secures the most valuable
parts of you, and I realize the importance
such a simple series of letters or numbers
can have.

Childhood Withered

Once upon a time,

I was a little girl, innocent, but for forbidden cookies before dinner.

I was a wildflower; small and pure, a growing desire to watch beauty succeed.

But as my growth stunted with an absent sun, I began to wither.

Harboring stolen hearts in broken jars, I was searching for my newest fix.

A craving to replace a ruined childhood, the price of goodbyes

was always so much cheaper than opening up past vulnerability.

Once upon a time,

I was a child with spirit and personality; not becoming what makes me, me.

Moved On

As a result of the dream my mind conjured,

I mustered up the courage to do what I’ve

been meaning to do for some time.

 

With a sudden burst of strength, I

took every carefully crafted letter,

every dutifully drawn picture and

I disposed of them.

 

And I cried.

 

I cried for the months spent loving

and the months wasted waiting for

something that wasn’t going to become.

 

And this time I cried, I cried not

because it felt like losing a love,

but because it finally felt like saying

goodbye.