just a little bent
askew
akimbo
a little twisted
they said
was it my inability to bend their way
or my distaste of the current patterns
or could it have been
when I stood
alone
and like a banshee
(or siren)
I screamed
all the rancid thoughts
I knew they were having
but they kept to themselves
as they rotted from the inside
while I’m purged
and clean
but bent
like a willow in the wind

she shuffled forward ever so carefully on the cliff’s edge
was surprised to see a verdant valley below
instead of the tumultuous chasm she felt brewing
if she but lifted her hands she might touch the fluffy bottom of the swollen clouds
the jagged rock under her toes reminded her where she belonged

she stood on that edge until the sun’s rays cut the sky like fresh scars
flickering lights became stars in the inky dome above

finally the tears came
she could not form words

twinkling dreams dashed
bubbly hopes demolished
tender heart destroyed
what was left but to carry on in her brittle shell
devoid of texture, taste
only vaguely recalling warmth
would her colors ever return
or had the betrayers taken her spark when they took all else she had to give

I wonder at this ache
that seems to carry me
as much as I carry it like a great weight
Aching so much that it takes hours
of staring at a swirling ceiling
before sleep claims me
but never for long
as it hurts too much to dream away the night
Demons are supposed to like the night
but mine follow me at dawn and noon
impervious to distraction or daydreams
When I buried so many ghosts
I thought I’d be free of pain
but that’s not how it seems to work
for they’re not done with me
’til I’m buried