Ladders

I’ve been climbing ladders,
rungs cold in my palms,
and hard on my feet,
searching for the right place to fall.


Check out my book, The Four Stages of Poetry, available on amazon!

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Taken

I remember the way you broke me.
Slowly,
like a carpenter
testing all his shiny new tools.
You chipped away at my body
until it crumbled under your touch.
You picked away at my mind
until it flaked and fluttered from my head
into a pile of rubble
for you to rummage through.
You stole my remains,
because all that I offered
just wasn’t enough
for the man that had everything.


Check out my book, The Four Stages of Poetry, available on amazon!

Witness

I watch
as she takes in more pills than she can swallow,
choking on the medicine
supposed to relieve the ache
of the strain on her lungs
from her mind’s refusal
to let her breathe in the oxygen
through the ash.

I watch
as she drowns the pills
in cheap liquor,
dissolving the lump in her throat,
but refuse to listen
as she screams.

I watch
as she drains herself of voice,
and claim
I never knew
because she never spoke;
watched,
but refused to see;
a murderer,
you cannot convict.


Check out my book, The Four Stages of Poetry, available on amazon!

Finally Breathing

People take for granted
how it feels to be okay.

A rarity
in my ocean of bad days.

It’s like a breath of fresh air
after realizing you were holding your breath.

Or turning on a light
after the sun’s been down for some time.

It feels like breaking free
of a restraint you didn’t before realize
was holding you down.

Or standing
after sitting for too long.


Check out my book, The Four Stages of Poetry, available on amazon!

I’m Okay (For Now)

The tides pull at my ankles like a persistent child, demanding I look at its creations. The vast saltwater, a menacing navy blue resting at the horizon where the sun begins to take a dip. The sliver of colors consumed by the separation between sky and ocean. It is clear and calm, waves nothing more than a small hop at the surface, where it brings itself to lick my calves. A light breeze lifts my hair from my shoulders and I breathe in the scent of an unusual calmness.

My mind has ripped free of the hurricane’s spiral, and I stand in the eye before the next storm. A relief from the winds that threatened to yank the sanity at its roots in the garden I’d begun to build around the ruins. I stand and I breathe in the serenity I could not dream up just two moons ago. And I allow myself to enjoy the peace before the next tidal wave.


Check out my book, The Four Stages of Poetry, available on amazon!