Poetry: My Three Kings

me and my 3 kings

Who are your favorite people to be around?

I met my first king at 17
when the nurse placed an alien like being in my arms
She was like “feed him”and I was like “how do I do that?”
What should I do with him?
Eventually I figured it out

I met my first king at 24
as a birthday present, just like me
he had to make a dramatic entrance
but it was love at first sight
No one could take him from my arms
I knew what to do

I met my third king at 30
He was a dream delivered
After a dream lost the previous year
He was planned, he was awaited, he was loved
He was welcome by everyone
with him, I felt a completion of love

Poetry: The Gift

Share one of the best gifts you’ve ever received.

When I look at you-
I see a promise of love
in the purest form
No ulterior motives
No second guessing
You’re sure of me
You love me
I’m not used to this
This-which is easy
This-which is true
This-which is happiness
This -which is a gift of intimacy
Wrapped up in your embrace

Poetry: Put Together

What were your parents doing at your age?

At 41, my mother worked two jobs, raised 3 kids,
and still kept the spark in her marriage alive
I don’t know how she did it all without ever
breaking apart-
I don’t remember ever seeing her cry
but I do remember her temper, her anger
and being afraid of her sometimes

Poetry: Just a Phase

Do you need a break? From what?

I need to take a breaking from thinking about you
you’ve been on my mind lately and it’s annoying
and it feels so damn foolish
but what can I do when my heart won’t understand logic
I hope this is just a phase
I’m enjoying our newfound friendship
anything more would ruin it

Poetry: Borrowed Time

How does death change your perspective?

word press prompt of the day

lately I feel like I’m on borrowed time-

lately I feel like I’m not doing enough 

and  lately this fucks me up

so I over work, over exercise,

and over post

to make myself worthy of my existence

I want to make sure I’m leaving 

some kind of imprint, some kind of legacy 

behind that I’m remembered by

but it’s really me trying to please 

the inner critic in me

who comes out when I’m most vulnerable

in my grief