I heard cries
saw swarms of fist
crack heavens walls
I knew at a ripped age, how
and how not to be.
Nights, I held these ears closed
in hopes to drown this house
that shook like an earthquake.
I learned to pick up clouds of
body parts that lingered from
stormy rains
I wiped mirrors clean with bleeding
hearts, stuck in sunken repeat.
Thorns pricked these tiny fingers
as I placed mishaps of I Love Yous
in glass jars.
I saw my mothers pinched face in a
constant contortion of why's, masked
by pleasing smiles to ease the thunderstorm
I was nine picking up shattered formalities
calling dysfunction normal
I remained quiet, hid in cupboards that
were dollhouses
But, the floods that consumed her washed ashore
and these ears were now home to roars that once
echoed in her room
Sitting, thinking,
quick sands sinking,
eyes shut, blinking,
cotton mouth, drinking,
faucets, dripping,
playlists, skipping,
sanity, gripping,
thoughts rapidly shifting,
jealous eyes,
telling lies,
heartache cries,
numbing pain inside,
only complicate,
need to medicate,
over sedatate?
Hiding under stone rocks,
thrown at glass houses,
armor is wet cardboard,
made out of cereal boxes.
violent, day dreams
silent, night screams,
eyes wide shut,
burning the hut,
blood shot veins,
hurting, window pains,
of dollhouses, jumping out,
broken glass,
bleeding fast,
can't catch me,
went from
100
to 0
a winners place to last.
I hate Christmas
Church and turkey
Dolls and dollhouses
Pretty dresses, I hated it all
I was only 11
I was not so tall
Uncle would visit
Jovial and sweet
He always brought those extra treats
In the night, so silent he crept
Telling me I was pretty
Touching me as I wept
I was to be the silent one
For its better off than dead
The boogieman would be coming
If I opened my mouth and said
I do not wear dresses
I am fat as can be
Inside is the silent one
Now no one will touch me
There's no better time to plan
Christmas time than hand in hand
With the innocence of children
In their hearts they will be holding
Magic of this special time
Teaching us it's such a crime
To lose all this joy and cheer
As we grow from year to year
Just look in their little faces
Lighting up with all the traces
Of happiness they will feel
That no one can ever steal
In days of exuberance
Wide eyed with the wonderment
Of this holiday that brings
Presents, snowmen, tunes to sing
Santa slides down chimneys
With dollhouses, trucks and more
Packages across the floor
For kids sleeping in the night
Waking to the morning light
Tearing open bags with bows
Smiles on their faces shows
Adults how we used to be
When everything was Christmasy
Little tiny people living
in a perfect world.
A little mom and daddy and a
perfect little girl.
Smiles on all their faces, make
you wish that you were them.
All the things you see inside their world make you
yearn for childhood again.
All the rooms are decorated to perfection,
there’s nothing in need of repair.
The sofa is the perfect color, and so is
the overstuffed chair.
Of coarse there in the parlor is
the prettiest fireplace.
The glow of the little logs aflame brings
a smile to each small face.
The pictures all hung so perfectly. The curtains
are crisp and white,
The pillows on the beds all match.
It’s such a pretty sight.
And out the windows of each room is
the perfect scenery.
The beautiful gardens filled with color
and lots of greenery.
I look inside the dollhouse where there
are no bills to pay,
Where there are no worries to wake
up to on each and every day.
Sadness isn't something that any of
them feel.
Sickness never crosses their paths. There
are no wounds to heal.
I love that perfect little world , that someone
made just right.
It makes me want to crawl inside and
settle in for life.
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