Eyes

I spent some minutes with the mirror today.
Not trying to control my hair
Or primp for an outing.
Just me,
With nothing but my face.
I looked at my eyes
for the first time in a while.
Really looked into them
and tried to figure out what was going on
behind the traitorous orbs.
They've been greener lately.
I knew something was up.
You may be thinking this sounds strange,
But it makes sense to me.
If you are getting to know someone,
Eyes are so important.
They flash with emotion.
They are the window to the inner us.
So when I am trying to find me,
I talk to my eyes
And see what they do.
Talking to ones self is considered crazy by most.
Or at the very least pathetic.
But you  know,
I need to know myself
If I want to know others.
If I don't know who I am in my own eyes
Then I end up caring too much
Who other people think I am.
What I found wasn't disturbing.
It wasn't exciting.
It was just...
Me.
And I missed Me.
So I smiled.
And I liked my smile
Because it was real.
It was like seeing an old friend.
I'm going to remind myself
To get to know mysself more often.

Standing Minsunderstanding

April 1, 2013

I feel a little empty.
The time,
That extra space
You made
When you scooted over
Just a little closer.
When you'd look at me
Like you were looking at something new.
You opened your mind
And your past.
You showed me your scars
I showed you mine.
You crashed into
My thoughts,
Making me believe in good.
Making me believe in me.
The long ago wrong
Shrank.
All this space in my chest,
I feel it now.
I didn't feel it then.
As it all shifted, and you moved in,
It was so subtle.
But so definite at the last.
No mushroom cloud,
No explosion,
Not a bullet hole,
Or bang.
Just poisonous words seeping in silently
Until the thin veil of non reality
Had dissolved.
It didn't matter.
None of it.
There was no beginning,
No end.
Just a misunderstanding
Of where I was standing.
No fallout,
No breaking.
Just a little ache
Where you made room for yourself,
But never showed.

February Isn't Forever

January is drawing it's sweetly slow lines
to a close.
February's bitter wind is sweeping in
too close.
I want to rewind and remind myself
that it wasn't always this way.
I want to remember that somewhere behind me
there are memories not tarnished
with the blue ink of time.
The same
though different this time.
How do I hold onto hope
with pain seeping through the cracks of my
 healing wounds?
I've come so far
but it's with me still.
keeping a few steps behind
but never leaving me alone.
I can swing my arms and whistle the tune of june
while still knowing that night comes
and the warmth of the sun isn't always there.
Long distance has gotten old.
Arms are much warmer
then 30 year old paper and pen.
February isn't forever. I know.
I just wish January was.