to all my fellow poets who were kind
enough to read my verse with the somewhat
forbidding title “not about you”
like it despite of it and
     more than that
elected it as Daily

as well to those
who sent nice messages
and greetings

I send warm thanks

you made my day

a sunny one
opened bright patches of blue sky
between wet clouds
and brought me better morning news
than any of my papers could provide

Merci once more

I could replace you anytime
Grab someone else and call them “mine”
But I can never forget you
It’s the hardest thing to do

Replacing is easier than forgetting
I can replace an old pen with a new one
But I will never forget the poems I’ve written with it

I can replace you with someone new
I can meet hundreds of new people within these 365 days
But I will never forget the stories I’ve woven with you

So don’t tell me to find someone new
I don’t want anything new
I don’t want to replace or forget
I only want you

I don't even want to try
But I keep hoping and wishing
That someone, somewhere
Can somehow, sometime fill this void.

It won't be you, I know.
For you just make the emptiness
More hollow and more painful
Now I know better than to wait for nothing.

If all this is nothing to you
Then you are nothing to me.
I'll get a grip on myself
And let the emptiness be.

May 13, 2016
1:00 a.m.
"Grasping for straws, again!" It's amazing to me, that when we start aproaching  my age, how we start reflecting on events that, at the time of their occurence, were not important. Case in point:
Lubbock, Texas, September, 1953, if memory serves. During that time local television stations, at noon, always had a 15 minute newscast, followed by another 15 minutes of "public service programing, featuring upcoming events in the surrounding communities. This time of year, it was always the "South Plains Fair."
My brother, Bill, and I belonged to a volunteer service group that was scheduled to appear on such a program aptly titled "Hospitality Time." Also scheduled was a country western band that was to perform at the fair. I can't recall the name other than they were associated with a circuit called "The Louisiana Hayride",  similar to the "Grand 'ol Opry", both very popular on the radio, you do remember 'radio', don't you?"
Prior to the telecast, we got into a conversation with one of the musicians, who 'plunked' on his guitar while waiting for their call.He turned out to be the lead singer. Not being a country music fan, I  didn't pay much attention to them, after all, it was "just for the Fair." After they finished and were leaving, he turned to my brother and me, and said, "nice to meet you." It wasn't until a couple of years later, when I realized that we had met, and talked with, Elvis Presley.
copyright: richard riddle: 05-13-2016

Scrolling through old pictures,
I come across the photos
That show a timeline of my descent into madness

As mental illness ravaged every single part of me
Stole my personality
My laugh
My smile
The very essence of my being.

Most will say
"It was just a phase"
But that torment
That mental and physical pain
Wanting to disappear
The horror of looking into the mirror and not recognizing yourself
Not knowing what was going on
And not being sure you could stop it.

When your worst enemy lies within you,
How can you attack it, without hurting yourself?
Perhaps that is why mental illness is so tough to overcome.
You can't just snap out of it.

I shed tears for how sick I was
How inconsolable
How dark days turned into darker nights
Where nothing mattered
Nothing had purpose
I was less valuable than the air I breathed.

But I'm grateful for those that stuck by me
That believed in me
That picked me up when I fell down
For I didn't disappear into the abyss

I was propped back up on my own two feet
Prepared for battle
Prepared to change
Prepared to do whatever it took to survive.

Fought through university
Fought to make new friends
To NOT be defined by my invisible illness

I soldiered on.
Now I'm up against the hardest part of the battle.
Accepting myself for who I am.

And I will continue to fight.
For surrendering is abandoning the very essence of my being
My soul will not bear a white flag.

I'm bleeding out, like ink on paper
My heart stopped beating, my chest is an empty crater
Today I died again, just like I did yesterday and the day before
But I've stopped minding, I'm too numb to feel sore

Later when I'm done ruining the sheets, and I'll have nothing more left to bleed
I'll turn my head, and find they've been bleached
And now, you can't see the red stains, or smell death in the stitches
Quick, before the lights turn on, change the scene, flick the switches

Let's make me the mastermind behind my own death
Let's play that game where you knock out my breath
We've been playing for so long, I've gotten used to dying
But recently it hasn't been much fun, when I'm the only one left crying