Drafts

They’re piling up in my computer, unread. I scroll through their titles and see them glowing back at me. Click open one of them, words unseen, close it back.

Memory card filled with feelings unspoken.

Then, this one. Part two of what I once wrote to you. It calls to me and I find myself unable to look away.

I read, smile, my heart filled with love. I can’t find myself to share it online, for those events are long gone, but I know you’ll read it one day. I’ll share it all with you.

Those drafts are part of a story that will find it’s reason one day. Part of me. Part of you. Part of everything we’ve ever been and always will be.

Things change. But, for us, they’ll never end.

 

Silence

heart full of fears and insecurities
I write to you
loved by your reassurances
you are there
reading it all
listening
so I write
talk
share
let go of the fears
of the thoughts
dripping one by one
onto my touchscreen

then, I ask about you

how are you feeling ?

above the blinking cursor
silence answers

I stare silently
and blink back my tears

 

Countdown

red streaks pulsing down the sidewalk
strangers staring
unfamiliar faces
sirens echoes on the stark concrete
nobody moves

seconds of sweet nothing on the news
a pressed apology in small print
flags failed their families
clock ticking
countdown to another casualty
you will never hear about

Me too

little girl
fingers under her skirt
not her own
she runs away and cries

teenager
caught in their eyes
trapped on their tongues
her body a prison
she begins to loathe

adult
he’s drunk and demanding
trust, he asks
thrusting into her
until she can trust herself no more
she closes her eyes
and prays for it to be over soon

older
she says no
he smirks
pushes harder
challenge accepted

she says no
he balls his fists in anger
and spits at her feet
fucking whore

she says no
he lifts his hands up
looks for his next prey
nobody will ever want you anyway

girl talk
hushed conversations
it happened to them too
relief
not being alone
sadness and pain
not being alone

I cannot finish this poem because we haven’t reached the end of it yet.