This song I sing will mean
many things. So if you find
a way to feel, I’ll give to you my words, for you to hide
or steal – just increments of me
passed on and passed away
‘til that moment you might see
all I gave was all I had today.

Both lost to the misery
we choose, we sink deeper
among the demons that
make us hate to feel and
help us lose. I’ve dipped my
feet in water so cold it burns.
And kissed the fruit that
sours and turns. I’ve shone
in the dark and faded with
the light. I’ve mended my
wounds and climbed to new
heights. And still the moon
glistens, and the sun tingles
my skin. So I know my living
just might not be a dying sin.

I’m here, but I’m gone. My
words are all I have left to
whisper or scream or not
speak at all. I’ll just place
them here. And make my
entrance or take my fall.


I’ve dealt with negativity all week. It makes my head hurt. I cut a friend loose and finally accepted the betrayal of the only person who could hurt me. It makes my stomach turn. It makes me mad at myself. It makes my arches ache.

So I’ve decide to become addicted. The way I have it figured – I only really have maybe 30 years left. My kids will be grown, and I’ll be retired. Why not live out those years homeless, giving BJs in some alley for my next fix and thinking my thoughts are poetry.

But numb. I wanna know numb.

When Time Runs Out

Priorities get slanted as I sit on the sidelines while you search for something more.

(Somehow I’ve lost myself).

And I watch you grow more restless as you look everywhere but here.

(I never thought this would be us).

Memories get lost at the sight of something new, and when time runs out, there’s just nothing more I can do.

(I know it’s over).


Like fingerprints on

windows forgotten or

left to remember, your

existence lingers,

clinging to me as

if still a newborn

warm upon my chest.

I dare not wipe away

these sacred stains

within my lifeline,

your presence, your

mark on this world,

your fingerprints

clutching my soul.

Lovely reminders etched

in glass to forever mark

those who came and

those who passed.

Happy 18th, baby girl!

Love, Mom