An Ode to the Day


To the day before another day

 a special day

Where two people met for the first time

Where bonds were formed like muscles

and piercing cries echoed empty hallways.

Pale blue pant sets worn over street clothes

Protection of what’s to come.

 

She swears she won’t know what to do with it now

But she’ll figure it out with time.

By 21 she’s cried for 21 years on the same day

Because after today she can’t go back

and teach whats already been taught.

 

Candles flicker in a black room

and people smile,but her.

She knows that her baby has grown

and wont need her,but forever she will be there

Anyway.

 

Tomorrow is my Birthday, and every year I cry the night before. It’s a personal tradition I guess. I hate getting old.

Sarah

Life Changer.


you are a piece of me

like an pendent you sparkle

blinding strangers with your raze of grace you tower high

into this world look down and see nothing

specks of green,brown moving down highways but yet

you feel small,engulfed by crowds of screams and glassy eyes

they await for you

to feel your warmth as you shut the door

they long to move on but in that split second

they are with you

and their lives are changed forever

 

Today is my mom’s birthday and I can’t even tell you how many lives she touches and changes everyday. She is a wonderful women and I’m proud to call her my mom

 

Happy Birthday Mom!

 

Love Sarah.

Mama’s Son.


She stands there

Leaning in the doorway of your bathroom

Listening

Thinking of the next thing to say

But she looks at you

Amazed

You look up at her

smile

Because that’s all you know.

 

Tears rolled down her cheeks

Because she doesn’t know

what

She would do without you.

You giggle

Splashing the toy

Under the warm water.

 

She picks you up

Your shaking body against hers

Wet hair falling

 on her shoulder

Pulling warm clothes

Over wet skin

You cry

Pulling socks over

Your small feet

 

She kisses you

You hug her

Because you don’t know what

you would do

Without her.

Do you Remember


Do you remember Brother

1971, you were so young

Do remember the choir

Echoing in the empty church

As our grey heroin took her final breaths?

We were all crying brother, wailing

Pleading for her to come back

You screamed

“Someone watch over me”

Do you remember?

Do you remember the silence

the quiet ticking of the clock

counting down the seconds till we’d see her again

Do you remember the moon

It was brighter than ever that night

The Mississippi winter was settling in

And you were cold and alone

Do you remember every morning waiting

Staring out the open window

Watching Snow blanket the solid,dead ground

Do you remember hearing a few sirens

In the distance

Not being concerned, not knowing

Where they were going

Or why

Remember?

Purple Veins.


He’s been fixated

On smoking cigarettes

For as long as he can remember

Inhaling exhaling

Every hour every day.

Marlboro Reds

Not 100’s

Shorts.

He wouldn’t smoke Newports, Parliments

Reds.

His father smoked cigars

Around him

As a child.

It didn’t bother him

but his lungs always hurt

whenever he went to bed.

He told himself he would never smoke

He didn’t want to be like his father.

He would wake up  every morning

To a smoky kitchen

And gray eggs.

There was Dad

Lighting another cigar

And drinking

A large cup of black coffee.

About a year later

His father stopped breathing

One day at the kitchen table.

His lungs tightened

And shriveled to nothing.

It was stroke number two.

And no one was surprised.

His mother smashed

The plate of eggs

Onto the floor

And cried into her apron.

He picked up

The broken glass off the floor

And hugged his mother.

Blood trickled between his fingers .

As his small arms

Wrapped around her waist.

Nothing was going to stop him

until this.

The Ultimate Failure


Ashes my Love.

You see its a lot harder

Than I thought

It would be.

Not seeing you

Every hour,minute,second

Of everyday

watching you grow

And learn new things

When a new day comes.

You have slipped into a

Different world

Where I cannot

Hold or touch you.

The human being

I created

Has now slipped

Into the moist dirt

where roots twist

Around your limbs

As if they are suffocating

Your spirit

And keeping you

Away from me.

I’d rather escape this

Wicked world

Where the flowers die

Whenever I touch them

Then to never see you

Again.

The world isn’t fair .

You should of watched me die

Instead I am sitting in

A pool of your blood

With your limp body

In my arms.

Nothing will ever change

The fact

That as your mother

I failed

Because I am still here

And you are no longer.

…. It’s one of those nights. 

Sarah.