Still-
nearly every crinkled blessing, every gift of knowledge, whose arthritis gets on their bad side from time to time and words must be repeated because they do wanna hear, it's just harder

soft hearted, but tough spirited elderly. I see quite a bold line between middle aged and elderly. It's like the sun setting into orange from red. Appreciation for being able to live. That's as simple as it is. Bills go up the wall and you live for the smaller things, watching tv. A smile always ready for a young adult or adolescent

"sometimes love comes around and it knocks you down"

hello
he said he had a great memory,
but do you think that applies to me?
Hey
he kissed the inside and out of my mouth
a closet full of fragmented words
and unfinished poems
worries and expectations
hi
he doesn't reply with meaning, he replies so I will leave him
sup
I don't think it's natural to cling onto something and you're not even a thought in his head
you ask yourself- you've never been after him before
he found you..
Why am I the one storing the pain and backup of feelings?
holding tenderly what was there
and you'll never know his words verbatim running through his mind,
and if that's all I want, what do I get?

It's not improper or a waste of time
not knowing where to move
four walls and you
listening to the sensation of music,
vibrate in your lungs and allow you to exhale
a breath of freedom and peace for the moment
people tend to forget about now and don't wanna try

for once I can write while listening to music,
I think it's because I'm finally letting people in

this isn't really an interesting poem

the grip I must feel to have the wheel
to truly have it and not let it slip through the sweat and tears

tighter than where the sky meets the grass, tighter than any connection you've ever had

they shake and want to surrender any day now
but everything's so precious

I had to say goodbye to a friend because she was too much like me, too much like the thoughts that could **** me

an illness that mocks me in my sleep,
repeatedly choosing for me

faking a sense of control that only allows me to pretend
I'm not too grown up for this

the cruelties don't go over my head
they swoop and land

cutting me in deeper
drowning me in my own tears

lifting me up and drifting me away

and yet I remain to wander

eyes soaked in day-old makeup,
hands numb from sleeping on them too long,
hair with enough grease to shine a car,
picking at my head, just to see it snow
in the fall when everyone goes back to school
in the autumn where children learn apostrophes
and commas and semi colons
when they learn being creative is breaking the rules
and rule breakers often go to jail, or even prison
I remember hearing the sound of crackers clanking
and smashing around in my mouth when I was
around 4 years old
I couldn't understand why I heard such loud sounds
and wondered if anyone else heard me?
I still wonder if anyone hears me
that the words don't just go through the optic nerve,
but they travel to the heart sooner

Today I ordered hot coffee just to let it grow cold
I climbed into my clothes and walked around in them
something felt odd, something felt different

the coolness racing down my throat
it still tasted like coffee-
but not as good

but these things have never annoyed me
have never made me want to get angry

love is so much of a better feeling
it tingles and mingles around in your body
hugs every loose end tight
makes you feel safe in your own skin-
love can do a lot

I can depend on the wind to keep me moving
the air to keep me living
the grass to allow me to have a presence

I no longer fear what's ahead because what's in me now
has no count down
it's permanent while it exists
and temporary pain gets flushed out

Yes, today I ordered coffee
and funnily enough, I let it grow cold

I'm young
not younger than the sun
but young enough to know you don't have to grow old