Soundbites of a Dramatic Woman's Life

disclaimer: I use the word "dramatic" jokingly, as often it seems as it raw or pure emotion is socially uncomfortable or odd and therefore must almost be apologetically described...however I know that my thoughts and feelings may very well be commonplace and not "dramatic" at all.

Brief Glee

I listen to nature speak, in its deep rumbles

I hear the soft patter of rain hitting the ground

A searing flash through the air

Equivocally evokes an exhilarating jolt through my senses,

And striking my core

Two melodies of thunder and lightning melt together

A rhythm forms, the lullaby of dreams

Illuminating my mind

Springtime in the Capitol

A tulip grows in the snow

Mourning something that is ending

Yet simultaneously excited for new life

A perfect dichotomy

The flash of bright, vibrant, electric color

Against the devoid, blistering, piercing absence of it

Both run deep

And yet amongst the finale

Comes a beginning

A circle that never ends

As the beginning and the end blur

I feel like

A tulip

Somewhere stuck

Between the unique crystallizations of snowflakes

And the chlorophyll of petals

Kitchen Sink

A few years ago she exploded.

She found shards of herself scattered in places she used to know,

Even masses upon people

Staring at some in fascinating dismay, a piece so disfigured

It took a moment to recognize it

Some pieces were studied so closely,

She was amazed that it was even once a part of her,

As it was so foreign in the present.

Other pieces she fruitlessly tried to insert back into the web of holes inside

She took other people’s abandoned parts, they fit better than her own.

She was a kaleidoscope of human shrapnel,

The people who were also torn; stitching their way into her new person

And then, she exited the cellar of her mind

Past the den's library of memories, some books scattered and still opened

She walked past the kitchen, where she created and consumed

She left the house entirely, and began a conversation with the person next to her

Collecting more pieces as she goes

Ctrl-Z

I’m a scab picker

I know, it sounds gross

When I see that scab form - it’s so hard and ugly - I pick it off

For some reason I think

That the fresh cut does not look as grotesque as the scab

Or I think the wound has already healed

Beneath that protective layer

But I remove it too soon

And I do it the next day again, when a new scab forms in its place

A sting as my blood meets the air when the cut reopen

Over and over until all I’m left with is skin that’s healed incorrectly, a dark spot

I do the same with my experiences

I pick at them too soon

What flows out are the biting thoughts as they meet the forefront of mind

Each word, a red blood cell

Spilling out onto paper

And I do it

Over and over

Thinking that if I re-live the pain

I will normalize it

If I make my pain routine, maybe it won’t hurt so much

I will be numb to it

It will be ordinary, acceptable, even

It will be healed

But all I’m left with

Is a scar

Skeleton

The beat of the drums goes right through me, as if I am air

Perhaps that is what I am,

Feeling as if the only thing holding me together

Is a loose web of fragile threads and a beating heart

It is time to shed this shell, like I have so many years past

With each passing year passing and being born again

And every person not quite the one

I find solace in the light

It shines through me,

And makes a pattern on the ground.

This lattice of my soul -

Your presence drips through them,

Filling them up if only for a moment

Nightmare

See - she hears it all the time but -

The memories are too far gone

That girl who knew them well

Has disappeared

And in her, lives only an echo

A muffled scream

But she can’t make out the words

First Crush

This hollow organ that pumps blood cells throughout these veins,

The rhythmic contraction and dilation through its chambers,

These two atria and two ventricles - this mix of red and blue -

Twinged just thinking of you.

This enchambered muscle beat faster with the anticipation of your kiss.

These fibrous tissue woven throughout my body quivered at your proximity

These neurons and synapses came alive,

As I overanalyzed every look I sent to you and you sent to me.

These elastics sacs protected by my rib cage,

Drew in air too quick when I caught sight of you.

And while I smiled when viewing you from afar,

The smile fell into nervousness when seeing you close.

This wild insecurity in your presence,

Is a foreign feeling as registered by this cerebral cortex

How much of this is mind,

How much of this is the body?

It all remains a simple memory now.