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I'm a Recovering Drama Queen. I got tired of the same old lines.

Monday, December 31, 2012


She brought a dust pan and a whisk broom with her that day.
She wanted to salvage what was left.
A few moments passed as she looked down at the mess.
She sighed as she scooped up the pieces and placed them in the front pocket of her shirt.
No matter how unsightly, she would keep them close to her breast.
She walked away whistling, knowing the heart has a way of healing broken dignity.

Sunday, December 30, 2012

That Child

I screamed at her.
It was the middle of the night
And I was so tired.
Her face was not recognizable,
It was blurred by my imagination.
I recognized the yellow blinds...
They were from my childhood bedroom,
But the room was not mine.
It was isolated from the rest of the house.
I yelled, "I can't do this anymore!"
"This is your child!"
"I can't be the parent!"
The father agreed but offered no assistance.
He was silent,
A faint shadow in the background.
She tried to reassure me,
"I'll take care of this now."
But she disappeared after she spoke.
I wanted to walk away,
I couldn't.
Nothing was going to change,
And the child still needed me.

I woke up and cried for that child.

Wednesday, December 26, 2012


One salty tear would lead to the next,
And the next,
Until pretty soon I'd be empty...
A mere fraction of a woman.
Emaciated by the grief, yet again.
I waited for it to all spill out like before,
But it did not.
A couple of leaks here and there,
Easily patched by the kindness I built up.
My skin now thick and rich,
And all signs of anxiety exfoliated.
I am whole.
Without you.

December 30, 2012
I've had some time to reflect on this poem. I was very angry when I wrote it. The truth is...I cried buckets...I just had to hold them in until my family left and I was alone. I am whole (that part is true), but I am hurting, and that's okay because you don't lose a year long love with the person you wanted to spend your life with without feeling the loss.

Friday, December 21, 2012


She packs her own lunch now. That's what grown ups do. But wedged between the peanut butter sandwich and the carton of milk she found a morsel of dessert...Her mother must have put it in there when she wasn't looking. It was smushed beyond recognition, but still enough to satisfy.

Thursday, December 20, 2012

The Other Side of Happy

It was an odd looking chair.
I had forgotten how cold and uncomfortable it was.
It looked out of place in the room remodeled for joy.
Dust had settled on the arms, so I wiped it away.
Last night I sat on the other side of happy.

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Family Postcards

Stevie admired her empty cork board. She spent many years carefully removing the postcards from it that she'd saved from family trips. She had them up for so long that it was hard to take them down without getting emotional. The memories were vague, but the feelings, they were strong and powerful.

Stevie knew the postcards couldn't be easily disposed of. She had tried that once before, but the problem was, they were addressed to her. No sooner would she cast them away and they'd find their way back again. Stevie was now a grown woman about to start a family of her own. She was tired of the old postcards arriving unexpectedly, tired of the fights and problems they'd cause when the did arrive. Lines between old memories and the present were blurred, and there was no room for the present day.

It took longer than she expected to look at each one because the postcards only offered glimpses of what her childhood was like. She thoughtfully filled in the gaps where the thumb tacks and tape left holes. She did take delight in some of the memories uncovered. Those memories gave her strength to get through some of the tougher ones. Each day she was one step closer to understanding herself, and with that understanding came peace and resolution.

Life wasn't perfect after she cleared away that old cork board. There were still sad events and moments of disappointment. Stevie handled these moments more easily. She took comfort in knowing that when those postcards would arrive she'd have room to pinpoint them exactly.