Leaves Beneath Your Feet

Sometimes the harsh crunch

of leaves beneath your feet

can make you realize

just how fragile life is.

 

Something once full of life

and service to give

now falls from the top

and withers away to nothing.

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Spoilers

Life is a movie

that everyone wants to see.

But like a movie,

it has spoilers

and people further along

in the movie

can’t keep their mouths shut

and ruin your ideas

and thoughts

and plans

and hopes.

So if you know the movie

won’t end how you want,

why bother to keep watching?

It’s ruined in a way

you can never undo.

What do I Want

As my undergraduate career comes to a close

in less than three weeks from today,

I’m finding that the amount of people that

are asking me what my plans are for

after I graduate is increasing substantially.

But the truth is that I really don’t have an answer

to satisfy their curious minds because

I truly don’t know what I am going to do.

Believe me: it’s more frustrating than you know.

I would love to have just one simple answer

to give upon request, but the thing is

that is so much harder to achieve than I thought.

There are so many options at my fingertips

that it is hard to pick just one to follow.

I tried on one, and decided I didn’t like it

and now I feel stuck once again.

As the world I know around me rushes to a close,

I find myself lost in the whirlwind with no direction

and it fills me with an anxiety I can’t describe.

People confront me and I don’t know what I want.

Well, I do.

It’s just not…

I don’t know: A possibility? Viable? Realistic?

It adds to my frustration even more.

I know when people ask me what’s next for me

they want information about my upcoming career,

but I guess the truth is that

that’s not what is important to me.

I have other matters of the heart and soul

to take care of first and until those are met

I can’t focus on anything else.

But my time is running out

and so is the money in my bank account.

I know I need to make a decision.

The pressure is on, but will I be a diamond?

Or will I just crumble?

The Last Time

I can’t recall the last time someone looked at me

and told me what they like about me.

I can’t remember the last time someone gave me

an ounce of hope that maybe I am pretty.

I can’t distinguish in my mind the last time someone

made me feel good about myself…

but I can sure as hell give you a list

of all the times someone told me the opposite

Fairytales

I wish that fairytales were real

because that would mean that

dreams really do come true

just because you will them too

and patiently wait for them to happen

and everyone gets a happy ending,

even me.

But that’s just not the case.

Love is a sham

and the more you believe in it,

the more you’ll get hurt.

then again, if you don’t believe in love,

the world reveals it’s cold self,

and it’s miserable living there,

but so is living in a constant state

where you believe that any day now

you’re fairytale will come true

and your prince will finally love you.

Go ahead and pick you poison:

reality or an apple.

 

Doors

 

These days,  I often find myself drowning

In trying to figure out what I want with my life.

There is an overwhelming amount of options

Forme to simply choose just one.

With graduation and my degree arriving

In the extremely near future,

It opens up for me enough opportunities to do

Just about anything I could ever imagine.

Which is just absolutely horrifying for me.  

Because of the limited amount of dreams

I’ve accumulated during my lifetime,

I have no idea what I want to door with my life.

I don’t know what kind of job I want

Or where on earth I want to live.

That means literally all the doors are open

And I could go anywhere and do anything

Which causes me immense anxiety

Because all the doors are equally exciting and plausible.

 

I suppose there is  one particular door

that I lean towards more than others

But I can’t go through it right now

unless somebody tells me to.  

I so desperately want to go through that door

But I can’t go through with it until

You give me your blessing.

But you say that now is not a good time.

The door isn’t on the table for this moment.

Which is completely fine because

I don’t want what lies behind that door

For this one particular moment in time.

I want where it leads.

I want the life that it goes to down the road.

I want the final product.

I want to follow the door that leads me to

Building the rest of my life with you

And you can’t build a life overnight.

 

These things take time.

And I worry if I don’t start opening those doors now,

It will be too late by the time your ready

Because I’ll  have had to open another door

And start to follow another path.

But that’s not what i want.

Since I don’t have  much in the way

Of hopes and dreams to follow,

I want to follow my heart.

I want to follow you.

Tell me I can open the door.

Tell me to follow you.

 

The Kitchen Drawer

When I was in the eighth grade,

you made it quite clear

that I was not YOUR child

when you kicked my mother,

my brother and I

out of the house after an argument.

You broke the drawer off,

the one with knives,

in your fury.

I thought you were going to kill her

right in front of me.

You pinned her to the wall

and spat on her face

as you belittled her

and screamed at her

for some stupid little reason.

You told her to take HER kids

and get out.

I wasn’t even allowed

to get my shoes. Or a coat.

We sat in the car

in the driveway

to a house where I grew up

and cried. And cried.

We did not know where to go.

I told my mother to divorce you.

I told we could move in with grandma.

I told her we could come to get our things

once he was at work tomorrow.

She didn’t listen.

I wish she had

because now I am just as damaged.

You welcomed us back

and acted as though nothing was wrong;

that nothing had happened.

You pretended that everything

was the same as always.

But I know better because

the kitchen drawer doesn’t have a handle

 

 

 

9 Years

9 years.

That’s a long time.

That’s how long I was waiting.

Waiting for you to notice me.

Waiting for you to see me.

Waiting for you to say you love me.

Waiting for you to hear me cry myself to sleep,

maybe on just one of those nights

and to ask me what was wrong.

That’s 3,287 chances you had

and you didn’t use any of them.

So now here we are.

You want to make amends

and try to make  it up to me for

all the times you ignored me

when I needed you most;

when you were all that I needed.

But you have damaged me.

I cannot be fixed.

I cannot be retaught that I deserve love

after all the times you showed me I did not.