A Long Time Coming.

Several of my friends are turning 21 this year.

While I am beyond excited for them and more than willing to help them celebrate (responsibly), it's also a little strange for me.

I hadn't really thought about it much until a conversation I had with some other students during my biology final last week. One of the other students mentioned that he felt young compared to a lot of the people in the class because he was 21. My 32 year-old lab partner told him that when he was 21, he was married with a baby.

When I was 21, I was engaged.

I lived with my fiancee.

And I had a 5 year-old step-daughter who told me to marry her father the day I met her.

This was my life.



*Note-- This is the playlist I listened to while I wrote this post and the four that will follow very soon. If you're interested. Who knows; it might set the mood while you're reading.  I know it set mine for writing.


**Note on the note-- Track number seven makes me cry pretty much every time I hear it. Especially if I hear it after track one. There were a couple songs on the playlist on my iPod that I didn't include in this playlist, primarily because I just didn't need it to be that long.  And don't try to guess if one of the songs was "our song."  It's not in the playlist.  A Quiet Mind is as close as you'll get.

Poetry Purge

I’ve mentioned before that I write as a form of self-therapy.  I didn’t mention that I don’t just write in paragraphs like I typically do for this blog, though that is primarily how I write these days.  I find any kind of writing to be therapeutic, cleansing, and helpful to my inner being.  

If I’m having a particularly hard time processing something or if I’m too emotional about it to really write, I write poetry.

I’ve kept a poetry journal since I was 15.  Several, actually.

Since the weather is dismal and I’m in sort of a funny mood, I thought I might share a few of the poems I’ve written in the last few years.  From the time period in which I was going through the breakup I keep referencing every so often, to be more specific.

Please bear in mind how deeply personal poetry is to me, since it comes from a place of overwhelming and raw emotion.  It actually takes a lot for me to share these and I really can’t tell you why I decided to do so today.  Maybe I’m setting you up to tell you my story sooner than I thought I would be ready to.

Who knows.

Also, it’s better if I tell you now that I don’t like rhyming in poetry unless it’s completely necessary or if the “poem” is actually a “song”.  I prefer free-verse, so the poems read more like a story than a verse-y poem and the punctuation is rather stylistic.  So do not go into this expecting my poems to rhyme, have stanzas with the same amount of lines every time, or lines with the same amount of syllables each time.  They will not.  If you prefer that kind of poetry, don’t even bother to read mine because you won’t enjoy it one bit.  

The first one is my favorite of the three by far.

Here goes.  

----

i watched the moon rise tonight

its silver tongues

licking through the branches

of the ash tree in my backyard

as the man looked down at me

benignly

like a father to his child

i watched that face blur

out of focus

as the wind rippled through the water

of the pond to the shore

that benign smile

warped slowly

i turn my face

toward heaven and the silver orb

i see the stoic, undisturbed face

of the man still watching me

and the black expanse beyond

is what really haunts me

it is that painfully empty noir

that reminds me

of your eyes

and how black they became

eight months ago

in the steamy night

when your first was raised

and i was pinioned

in that small room

where no one heard my cries

as the moon rose

throwing silver tongues

through the still-blooming trees

and the small window of my prison.

----

somehow

my heart still beats

for you

i still tremble

cold and alone

at the whisper

the scent

of your name

your breath

my blood runs cold

every day i find

small reminders

of a pain

you caused me

each bruise

i remember

a shadow in my mind

hair in your hands

my hair

in my hands

how do i forgive

when i cannot

forget?

how does my heart

still beat

when all you

have done

is rip it out

time

and time again?

i still remember

curtains pulled

and darkness

that spills on my face

remember

my hands, your hands

our bodies

separately entwined

for the last time

i love you

echoes

in my empty

and hollow chest

Let me go.

----

and my pillow

shall dampen my

face

in my

sleep

eyes

shall close

and remain

in blissful solitude

eternity

shall be nothing

in the wake of

your eyes.