What I Really Want to Say

FUCK YOU

I really want to say that

That’s how I really feel

but that’s unprofessional

because you’re a kid?

So, I take what you and how you say it

with a smile on my face and bear it?

Why?

Because you’re a kid?

It’s professional?

Fuck you

I feel like I’m back a child

during a time where saying

Huh? and Yeah would have you

rubbing your cheeks and lips

for weeks on end.

I feel like I’m back a child

where I have to stay in a

child’s place.

I feel— like I am back

a child where my feelings

never mattered.

fuck you

Teachers have feelings, thoughts, emotions

just like you

So, why am I the one in your place

and you in mine?

Because it’s professional?

Because you’re a kid?

I really want to say

F—- you.

I’m…

not okay.

If I’m being honest

with you

I dream about

complete darkness

every night to

grow accustomed to

a life in complete silence.

I dream about

a day where

every night I

am—can be

happy.

I’m…

not happy

not okay

not

okay

because if I

continue with the “not”

then my next words

will continue to

weigh

me down

like a ball

of iron

chained

to

my

leg.

I am…

here

Spiral

I am a black hole

waiting to implode.

Old

I know I am getting old when

Kitchen utilities excite me when

Sleeping a full 8 hours is not enough when

Standing a while

hurt

every

part

of my body when

My patience wear thins when

I begin to reminisce about times when

doing things were easy

life was easy

less complicated

You know you old when

every statement you say begins with

“Remember when we…”

Lost in Sick

Like my nose, words of how I

love you are stuck yet dripping

out every so often— one forceful push

and the words retreat further in.

It does not always feel good

and sometimes I wish to rid of it

rattling around in my chest completely but

then momentarily I feel relief

and hope for things to be better

for more than a moment.

A Bare Christmas

Scraps of wrapping paper are scattered about like torn down police tape of a crime scene except the only crime here is a box of missing ornaments and gifts missing their Christmas-y adornments. You’ve always hated the idea of a materialistic Christmas hence the absence of the Gameboy advance and CD player with headphones wrapped beautifully by me under the tree since that’s all it is now—a tree in the living room.

The Only Thing Left

A pen dropping resonates

in every corner of my mind

as the little writers

hold their small temples

in deep thought—what

to write—nothing comes

to our minds—we are

stuck? trapped?—

idea less?

All that was felt

as of late was

Hurt

Loss

Frustration

Depression

Anger

Hopelessness;

all the things

to write about—express yet

nothing.

My pen drops onto the

open journal

waiting for

the words

to

appear.

Letter “U” poem

The universe will usher

in a new era where

the two of us will

forever meet

Letter “T” poem

Time stands still as I try to resume my sense of “normality” where you were supposed to be home—resting, healing and alive.

The process of acceptance—the time I will need to return to my “normal” scheduled program will be tumultuous but it’s something you would want for me.

Forever

Creaking floorboards dissipate— fresh pine lingers in the bathroom. Detergent permeates the air of each room as if you were still here

Lone Ranger on the TV fills the silence of the house as you begin your journey towards resting peacefully —eternally.

I will forever remember the oatmeal you made me on my first day of school—the way you heated the comb on the stove when you first pressed my hair

I will forever remember your smile and laughter that turned into you coughing when it became too much

I will forever love you now and always.

In loving memory of Deloris Wright; Grandmother/Mother/ Wife/ Sister