II. Greenhouse

*This poem is a part II, to a series I have started for events in my life, called To Plant the Memories Like Seeds. Check out the first part, Chain-Link Fence*

 

I remember her the way you
remember a cut; within the
scars it left behind.

She was a gardener; carrying
beauty in her pocket, and
teaching me how to tend the
flowers.

She showed me the ways a
rose’s thorns could paint its
petals red.

She became my mentor,
teaching me how to hate the
size of my leaves and dig for
the veins.

I remembered her the day
she quit, the day she taught
me not all addictions are
substance abuse.

I grasped the independence,
but carried her lessons with
me. 

The day the storm rolled in,
she’d evacuated long before,
but I remembered the way
she handed me the keys to
the shed.

The way the sharpness of
the tools glistened in the
light of the open doors.

The rain rubbed against the
aftermath, and the lightning
scratched at my flesh.

The wind screamed in my ears-

“This is what you wanted.”

The day the storm rolled in,
the thunder left threats in
the holes the tornadoes
created in my walls.

I remembered her in the
broken greenhouse, and
the way she opened my
eyes to the damage cutting
one stem could do to the
whole flower bed.

And I remember her every
time I paint my rose petals
with my thorns, and dig for
the veins.


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

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Reaching Out

I feel the metaphors are the only thing
people will listen to. The only cries for
help taken seriously are those hidden
in the eyes of the narratives speaking
through pains of a story that is merely
‘fiction.’ I feel the imagery is the only
thing people will see, call it pretty, and
fail to truly understand there is inspiration
behind every piece.


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

You Before Me (I’m Not Mad, Just Broken)

Phil Kaye taught me that
if you repeat something enough,
it loses its meaning.

I have spent so much time
trying to give purpose to your life
that I have lost my own.

I do not know how to tell you
that I am a hypocrite.

I spend so many hours
coaxing the safety back on your gun,
with a finger on my own trigger.

I convince you to live
while planning my death.

I hold hands with my demons
while breaking down yours.

I do not know how to ask for help
because you always request it first.


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

Sacrificing Angels

I know it’s not my best piece, and normally something such as this would be discarded, but I’ll share anyway. 

 

I ask my demons why,
bribing them with angels.

They chew on the halos
like teething rottweilers.

Their diet is a fad
made of my happiness.

They strip me to bone,
then tell me my fears;

“Don’t worry my child,
it’s all in good fun.”


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

Bipolar

Mr. Doctor Boy,
not quite man,
Can you show me
how to change the chemical composition of my brain?
Can you take authority
and claim to know how to cure me?
Mr. Doctor Boy,
Didn’t your father teach you
how to arrange dopamine and serotonin
in the correct orders?
Tell me of noradrenaline,
norepinephrine,
help me understand,
Mr. Doctor Boy,
be a man and fix me.


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

Clean

It has been six months / but sometimes / I still think of you / still miss the refuge I found in you / miss the way were my medication / calming the pain / my brain couldn’t cope with on its own / It has been six months / but sometimes / I still miss you / I search / for a new addiction / writing my stories in poems / instead of my… / sometimes I still miss you / still miss the way you helped / in some sick and twisted way / still miss you / but no longer need you / no longer itch for your touch / when I can’t feel my own / no longer read the stories in my scars / instead hide them in my words / It has been six months / but sometimes / I still think of you / still miss you / but never need you.


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