The Charm

Silver and small

The way that light hits each link

Makes it appear

Like a lobster’s claw.

Attached,

Somehow,

Is a behemoth.

It stands.

Four legs.

A trunk.

A tail.

Its ears;

Perfectly large-

Trunk so happily lifted high,

It could shower water at any time.

The links it grasps-

A pair of hearts.

You can feel the love coming from them-

They link together.

Dear life they represent;

Small,

But they mean

So much

To the one

That holds them.

They are smooth.

They are harsh.

Love,

Is not

A

Smooth ride.

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It Waits

It comes back no matter what room I’m in.

No matter how many times,

It comes back twice as tall.

It waits,

Waiting for me to go through it.

I’m dreading that it will remind me

That every

Single,

Lonely

Person

That comes into contact with it,

That it exists,

That they

Couldn’t

Care

Less

About me.

Never Loved

Can you say that you actually loved him

With all those men that you’re rolling through,

Those comments you’re posting on the internet,

The unprecedented shade you’re throwing,

Blasting on him to whoever who will listen?

Good girl gone bad my bootylicious ass,

You were that way right from the start.

The way that you carry yourself tells me different,

You never really loved him to begin with.

 

 

The Willow of Richmond Street

In the spreading willow branches

I find myself swinging into the clouds,

Grabbing onto it’s long, tendrils and spiraling myself

                   Down,

                                                                    Down,

          Down,

                                         Down.

Leaving those budding branches of life

Reaching into open air and crashing onto the ground

Sending uprooted dirt into the air

Like a less flashy Fourth of July

Splintering, pushing and breaking all the objects

That came in between the reestablished relationship

That I and the earth had rekindled.

Such was the death of the 43 year old Willow tree

That my father planted upon attaining this house.