stern residuum

Bottom of the ship
descending to the
Bottom of the ocean.
Where and why we flip,
ceiling becoming the floor.
Realities crashing
all around me,
Memories flooding
all I can see;
When does the feeling that
I haven’t lost you
Begin to sink in?


Throwback Thursday

I don’t participate in social media, aside from this blog I suppose, if you want to call it that.  But I am adept enough to have picked up on a popular phenomenon known as ‘Throwback Thursday’ which is apparently when people post old photos of themselves or of friends and loved ones.

Well, yesterday I decided to start sorting through old journals and writings from way back when.  The oldest piece dates back to 1996, 20 years ago when I was just in high school.  (!!!)  I’m not promising perfection in any of what follows.  But it’s always good to know where you came from.  So, let’s start near the beginning:

Looking under things;
searching wherever I go.
I don’t know what to feel anymore,
so I look.
Every corner I turn
I peek to see if it’s there.
Every step I take
I check to see if it’s anywhere near,
Retracing my steps
I look again.
Unsuccessful at my attempts,
I think,
Maybe it’s not under something,
but rather in.
I turn to look at you and I see,
reflecting back,
something familiar;
I spy what I’ve been searching for.
When I look into your eyes
I see what’s in your heart;
you’ve had it all this time.
Is this why I feel so empty
when you’re not around?

January 1996 (14 years old)


I never noticed how beautiful the music was
Until I listened.
I never knew how beautiful you were
Until I opened my eyes.
There’s something magical about your eyes;
they shimmer and shine like the stars in the sky.
It’s always been there–
the beauty–
It’s just been waiting to be discovered.

August 1997 (16 years old)


You’re a little piece of heaven sent from above;
someone god intended for me to love.
I took you and held you and made you mine;
life is sweet, but love is divine.

August 1997 (16 years old)


No one can sit you down and teach you life’s lessons-
You must learn to paint your life;
fill it with the colors you possess.
No one can steal your portraits away,
so take them and make them wherever you go each day.



One thing he doesn’t understand:

Those images traumatized me.

It’s like they triggered my PTSD-

At any moment my instincts

could tell me to go into battle.

But I guess it doesn’t matter

to him

Because you see,

they’re such good friends.

And so it seems,

I’ve been making

love to the enemy.