I never knew
healing would be
such a gentle thing.
Like being curled up in my recliner
with my dog, a cup of coffee,
and a good book
on a cold winter day.
Or the innocent giddiness
of a schoolgirl crush.
Like a deep sigh of relief
after a long shift at work.
Or waking in the morning
feeling rested,
ready for
whatever may come.
I never knew
healing was soft
and quiet,
and I am grateful
to know it now.
a foot and a half
of snow;
everything is a
pure white.
a mother, her son,
and their dog
play in the snow
outside my window.
People are out,
armed with shovels,
donned in their
heaviest winter gear.
The afternoon sun
makes it all look bright
and alive,
while snow sits heavy
on trees and cars.
It is a normal winter day,
seemingly of no significance,
but I feel calm and fulfilled.
My life feels slow,
normal, and quiet.
And I am serene.
I was yours
once upon a nightmare—
because all nightmares
start as dreams.
And for a time,
I did not mind.
I fell in love with
the dream you created,
and before I knew better
I got caught up
doing what I could
to keep it
from ending.
I’m not sure
when the dreamscape
you painted
grew so dark,
only that I noticed
too late.
And upon awakening—
I do not recognize the world.
growth is not what I anticipated.
for everything lost, something better
was gained—
and my soul feels pulled in two directions:
my old ways,
and the ones I am stepping into.
I never knew nostalgia could hurt
so much,
or that freedom could be found
in forms of loss.
the sunrise I never thought would come
is finally dawning,
and I am scared
of what it means
to leave the darkness behind.
sunlight is streaming in
through the windows of my soul,
but I’m pulled to look
at what’s behind me—
the darkness retreats
as the light
desperately clings to me,
begging me to bring it
along.
and the temptation of familiarity
is more alluring
than I care to admit.
Dear Omaha,
Your ghost still haunts me like a protruding scar on my heart that may never fade. In quiet moments, your ghost and its echos come to me, stalking the darker halls of my mind.
I know that I am not innocent in these affairs. With my heart and mind in a state of dilapidation, I chose complicity every time to claim a place by your side, and the sides of those to come. I gave everything, and it was never enough.
But there was a time when you and your echos did bring some light into my darkness, and for a while, that light was enough to keep going. I never thanked you for that. And even now, your ghost and its echos are a source of power for my healing.
I do not regret everything we did and everything we shared and everything we said. In a strange twist that I never saw coming, I am grateful for the experience of you. For because of you, I am wiser and I am stronger and I am becoming the person I am meant to be. I hope your soul can find that too.
So thank you, and farewell,
JPM
I made you my sun
when I was an Icarus.
Addicted to your warmth,
and disregarding
the destruction of fire,
I flew too close
and I stayed too long
until you melted my wings
and I entered a free fall.
I found myself broken once again, a part of me killed by your ruthless hunger. I didn’t know which hurt worse: saying goodbye to the parts of me you killed, or realizing that even monsters have souls too.
And while I will never understand you, goddamn it, I saw you. I recognized you the same as you recognized me—haunted by demons of the same descent.
It is only by chance that the darkness molded us differently, and we came out such different forms.
I’ve fallen so many times and I’ve always picked myself back up. My bones have broken. My flesh has been bruised. My body is littered with the scars—seen and unseen—of my past; of the ghosts that haunt the halls of my mind. But I am slowly making peace with them now and I know I need not fear them. I am filling up the empty rooms of my soul and opening up the curtains. And as I stand with my face turned toward the sun, as I feel the warmth on my face and my eyelids, I feel something new being born—rising inside of my chest; an eternal flame growing bigger. My soul is renewing. My heart is healing. My mind is finding peace. I am becoming. I am whole.
I am finding myself
trading you for someone
carved from your shadow—
intoxicating enough
to fool my still-youthful naivety,
but never enough
to fool my heart.
I am not who I was a year ago, six months ago, one month ago
I planted a seed that is sprouting from the dirt and the mud and the ashes of my past
I let the flames of the fire burn everything away until there was nothing left but me
rebuilding myself from the wreckage I was trapped beneath,
I burn with a different fire, one that is all mine and does not scorch me
a fire that lights the darkness and shows me my shadows
and now those shadows that once haunted me have become my friends
I let myself burn to ash and I am now reborn
becoming the me I am meant to be
black bird sing to me
sing of the things you have seen
of the horrors and the wonders
of the stars and the skies
sing to me of the wisdom you have gained
sing to me of the storms you have weathered
sing to me the song of freedom
sing to me the song of spirit
sing and I will listen
fly and I will watch
teach and I will learn
black bird sing to me
something shifts
something changes
the silence is louder
the view rearranges
time passes
things click
the veil lifts
it’s more arsenic
loving you was loving poison, the kind that kills one slowly
shrouded in honey to mask the bitterness of truth
I never noticed that you shoved it down my throat
aware only of the salaciously sweet words you spoke as I was choked
and it haunts me now, the way you used to touch me
sometimes at night I still hear your voice behind me
we shared things we never should have:
beds and bottles, drugs and drunken conversations
in the end, it was you I had to detox from to start anew
now watch as a garden blooms from desolation
I hope the view ruins you
your hands lingering on my body
erotic conversations in a car
winks given across the room
say you want me to bloom
my body aflame where you touch
my knee, my thigh, my arm
a hand on my breast
breath caught in my chest
your hands in my hair
voice low in my ear
heat blooming in my core
my body begging for more
Older Woman and Younger Girl,
a History of My Life:
she has me spellbound
wondering if I am confound
she was the Green Light,
I was Jane Eyre.
Together we were Wuthering Heights
caught in a manipulative love affair.
She did things under cloak and dagger,
I wore my heart on my sleeve.
they warned me not to trust her,
and she kept me without ticket of leave.
I love being under the influence,
but her’s is one I now rue.
she came with her own dissonance
I never learned to subdue.
Phoenix Marie Poetry 