Problematically

I love 

The feel 

Of the night

I hold

Entropy

In my arms

Allowing it

To take me

Spread me thin

Equalize me

As I whisper

To gravity

Keep me 

Grounded 

And I wink

At kinesthetics

Asking it

To move me

Plane Thoughts

 And didn't you know?  She asked herself as they ascended.  Didn't you know how this would feel?

It's different though, she replied.  Now, today, it's new.

We write our own stories as we walk, run, skip through life.  As we float, barrel, bully our way forward.

We look back and what?  Cry?  Laugh?  Dream?  Hope?  What is there to now but the future?  What is there to future but past?

What if I held your pain in my arms and it dissipated?  What then? Would life be bearable?  Or unbearable still because you were not the one who ceased your own pain?

I call upon the heavens and they rain down vengeance.  What of our future then?

Who is Harvey Weinstein and why did I meet him?  He who I know.  My own family patriarch.  He doesn't know that I see him.  He feels it though.  But he doesn't know.  Everyone watches and thinks other.

But I am so much they don't know

Take my pain, sky.  Take it and rain relief upon all those in pain.  Or do you need my relief?   Take that and leave me with pain.

It is my bedfellow anyway.  Before and after.

Wonder

 Did I forget,

Or didn’t I ever know.

Sometimes

 Sometimes the beauty 

Of words

Overwhelms me

And I instantly realize

My

Insignificance 

It Hurts

It hurts

This way you speak to me

It breaks me

I bleed

You think

I’m tough enough

To endure

You’re wrong

About that

I run

From harsh language

Fists

Upon my psyche

My soul bleeds love

And I don’t have enough left

To show you

My heart 

10/28/2025

9:14 a.m.

Being sober, living sober, is so hard for me.  Doesn't help that I broke-up with Edgar and now have to feel all those feelings live and in color.  Process all these emotions...

Robyn lost her dog Gabe.  Mom called and told me.  I'll try and write her a poem.

We walk through life

Cherishing that which we love

Hoping and praying

We will be loved

And cherished back

Unconditionally

Some love us

And losing them

Breaks us open

And we have to be

Held so carefully

As we heal

I see your heart

I always have

I see your strength

I always will

Take love, baby sister

Know I love you

Unconditionally

Also

I think of you always

But especially

When you need extra love.

My heart hurts.

My brain feels swollen.

But my soul, my soul is peaceful.  The storm of that relationship, having died.  It's left a calm in my soul.  And a smile, knowing I can still learn to love a man.

Now - just to find the one that speaks to my soul.  Dances with it.  Doesn't judge it or assault it with fear-based anger.  Doesn't try to make it feel small so they can feel large.  Someone with quiet confidence and a peaceful heart.  Someone who won't try to break me.

I am a whole person.  A whole lot of parts.  I can put myself together from time to time.  But sometimes  (okay, quite often) I lose a piece.  Lose my peace.  But I recover eventually.  If the stars align.

I've been so stuck.  Stagnant.  Treading water while flirting with distraction.  Glancing away from my reflection.

I need to start running.  For strength.  Clarity.  Inner peace.  Universal truths.  The ability to look at myself again.

Now that I know all my children are okay, how can I make my garden grow?  I'm lusty for direction.  Purpose.  Meaning.

How do I get from here to who I want to be?  Is there a new version I want to see?  How can I awaken her, let her know I'm ready to let her shine?  Grow her wings.  Let her fly? 

Because I know, with my whole heart, I almost let her die.

Today

 Everything is in front of me

I just need to embrace it

Or will I

Let it slip through my arms

Like always

I admit

 I admit

I know nothing

But doing so

Means I know

One thing

So…

Magic

I found this one in an old journal, it was written between June 26, 2024 and July 6, 2024.

It's not without 

Where I will find

The Magic

It's within

And I will hold it there

Until it's ready

And I learn

How to begin

Is it a muse

A savior

Or a sage

Is it a sleeve

A canvas

Or a page

Where will I bleed enough

For you to feel me

Where will I die enough

For you to hear me

Where will I cry enough

For me

To hear

Myself?

I

 am not okay

i will be

but i'm so not

2025

I am hopeful.