NaPoWriMo #29

the hump is hard to get over

One of the many text message exchanges between me and Chrissy.

just when I thought I was
having a decent span of
days in a row without breaking
completely down, I swiped
through some photos in
my phone and came across
a screenshot of a text message
from one of my greatest loves,
and the tears piled on like
never before.

I wanted to lift myself up from
the chair and summon relief.
my heart is in a million pieces
and it’s going to take time
to put it back together again.
I am jigsawed, an abandoned
puzzle with no box for storage.

her daughter–my beautiful little
cousin, keeps up with me,
sends “I love you” messages
from time to time, and “How are
you” greetings and I am holding
on to her as hard as I can.
eleven years stand between us.
I have memories of her mom
she’ll never know, but I share
them–in pictures, with words.

I see her now through
WhatsApp message exchanges
and videos, and as soon as I
am done feeling every inch
of her presence, I cry.
she is so much like her
mother–such an incredible
radiance fills the room.
I get lost in
her ramblings–awed by her
talents.

my grandmother calls to thank
me for her copy of October Star
and the first thing that leaves her
mouth is, “Tre, you look so much
like Chrissy,” and I can’t find
the words to acknowledge the
fact. Moments later, I pull
“Everyone said that” from my
soul and I let it linger in the
air that filled our pauses.

it is a hard thing to look
in the mirror and see the
person you loved so much
staring back at you, but you
can’t call her, can’t write to her,
can’t send her a text message–
can’t do a damn thing but
let life continue being life.

the hump is hard to get over,
and I wish I wasn’t heavy
on the struggling end, but
I’m trying. God knows I am.
and when my overwhelming days
hit me, I have to slap on
my big girl pants and move
through the hell of it because
the one person who talked
me down from a high ass
cliff isn’t around anymore.

and never will be.
and that is the hardest
pill I have ever hard
to swallow.

NaPoWriMo #28

Brought Back to Life (revised)

Sold into flames, fiery pits sing of the determination of willful souls that know only the battles of their homeland.

Dead then alive, then dead again, human resurrection; phoenixes preparing to soar, resisting the shackles weighing them down.

Is this life’s reward? Are we waiting
to be brought back to life
while we negotiate to live?

Are we?

NaPoWriMo #15

The Last Poem (Revised)

“this is the last poem
I will write for you.”
and as the words leave my mouth
I know I am lying, that
when it comes to you, truth
is hard.

I tell myself one thing
I do another.
I could have been a painter,
spreading the colors of you
onto the fibers of the canvas
while you blend in perfectly.

Every flaw you point out
as insufferable and odd have
become my favorites:
your hair, your nose, and the
way your bottom lip quivers
when you try to explain something
difficult.

I see no wrong in you.
I believe this is why
we will not make it,
why we could not,
and I believe you hate me
for being blind to your
view of you.

I say again, “this is the last poem
I will write for you”
and you smile, tilt your face
to the sky, and pull my hand
to your heart.
You purse your lips together
and utter a revelation,
“that’s a lie and you know it.”

And you’re right.

Your Poem From Me Request #11

The Giving Cause: I Am No One’s Number One

Senryu, 6 Parts

bound by wayward hands
this–a life I did not seek
breaks my lonely heart

never a first choice
played with and sought after when
life seems relentless

he didn’t pick me
he didn’t pick me either
do I still matter

I shouldn’t give up
it’s my positive outlook
but I do worry

will I die alone
never knowing heart’s true love
or will I bounce back

I haven’t lost faith
men whisper about my smile
I’m still a good catch


Thank you Clay Rivers for giving me the opportunity to gift this poem to you, and for being vulnerable enough to request it. I hope I’ve done your request justice. Peace and blessings.

To learn more about Your Poem From Me: The Giving Cause, click here. Let me write a poem for you. I can give it life

Your Poem From Me Request #10

The Giving Cause: Ignorance Is Bliss?

Photo by David Leong via ReShot

I know you see me,
I KNOW you do. Who
you see before you is not
who you say I am.
What must I do to get you
to see this person
instead of who you claim
to see?

A moment’s glance–a few more
seconds, and you will realize your
error, this is what I think . . .
but I’ve been proven wrong more
times than I care to count.
I am not a woman. I am not a woman.
I AM NOT!
See me. SEE ME!

When I open my mouth, you
come to grips with your ignorance;
a pronoun you selected for me
isn’t applicable to me–where does
this leave us?
Out in a cold area without
much probability of return
as you consistently take us
there every chance you get.

I am tired of explaining myself;
exhausted from covering the
subject. Here, see . . . this is
my name–address me by
name only.

Let it sink in.
Let it build. Let it mold.
Let it marinate.

A little compassion is what
I seek–some understanding is welcome.
I am so tired of a world
that doesn’t care enough
about a person to simply
respect them.

We must change. We need to
change. We have to
change.


Thank you again to Matt Snyder for allowing me to gift another poem to you. Writing this one felt as if it would touch many others. I hope it does.

To learn more about Your Poem From Me: The Giving Cause, click here. Let me write a poem for you. I can give it life