forward

i can not believe i am doing this again
memories from the last time seem as if only yesterday
there is evidence of the last time everywhere i look

can this be happining again, i guess so.

when

when sadness knocks on the door loudly, i turn on the music that played when i was happy. when sadness wants to take me out, i put on the prettiest dress and my big bad boots. when sadness wants to run me under the covers i bring a good book.

one long breath( opera)

can i tell you about the opera and how it makes me feel. can i do my emotions justice when i tell you how much i am inspired, inspired- what does that mean? to do what i wonder, because as the very first note is released into the air, i feel as if shall never leave the theater, that right here in this chair i shall take my very last exhale.but before i do my heart will take me around the room and into the stories of my own life i will dive in and i will cry. as she speaks to him in one long breath a hundred faces will come to me. and just when i think i can bare no more of her agony her voice will turn towards the sky and it will remain hanging in heavy air until someone terrified of what they have felt disturbs the perfect dark silence with an applause and then another.

memories..

...slowly she begins to live in the past. the funny thing about that is that she was not able to remember most of her childhood, except for small things. the color of her swimsuits, the taste of tiger tale ice cream, the caterpillars she would collect while riding her bike, the boy with the fish tank full of little frogs that she felt the need to liberate those where good things. once and a while a small rush of bad things would come to her, she would face them head on for a minute or two then feeling her fist fill with anger she would shut the door tight shaking her head as if she was trying to have those memories fall out of her, . slowly she found herself lingering in certain memories, she was reliving the ones from the last few years more than any other but this time she toke out all the painful moments and replaced them with all the what ifs she had gathered through out the years.

ted hughes

surely there has been a mistake. i am not from now.
but from then, a time when we introduced ourselves with our full names.
where we rode our bikes to our destination with ease. a time when he said “hello” and it’s weight alone would send you floating for days, nights and days again. where we danced because that is the only way we could touch, so we danced a lot. my memories of such time are not mine, they are borrowed from those who where there then and then was their now. a time where you could hear the screen door snap back as you ran out the house with your lips tainted raspberry.

i would have not married ted hughes, but would have surely been smitten and would have held on to his words till they fell into the library sink. yes, i could feel you trying to interrupt me while you read this. you wish to tell me that not all those times i would have liked and i understand. i thought about it as this came to me this evening and i know with that which is good comes things that are bad but i asked myself, what bad would i have taken for those memories to belong to me, to be mine, to have had the raspberry wiped from my lips by his mouth..

how can that be answered truthfully.

reflection

taking a walk in my minds path. stumbling.