Photo by Rachel Sanner via Unsplash

it’s nearly hurricane season
Spring is rushing in with
her hands flailing wildly
among the trees
the sky is hovering in wait
it spits violently from its mouth

we are huddled in safe spaces
keeping away from windows
and finicky doors
meteorologists plot and plan
and untruthfully dictate when
to expect the worst
I flit from channel to channel
praying for validity

I can hear the wind howling
a loud and present reminder
for me to remain patient
the sun is eager to shine again
and we’ll find ourselves gathered
out in the open to feel
something more than the
enclosed spaces of our homes

crows caw and boast from
building to building
mocking each other during
their calls to mob
the other birds
their means of survival strikes
me as terrifying but
what would they say about us

I press my fingers
into my right palm
a stress reliever
a gentle and surefire way
to calm my nerves
this weather won’t last
and one day
we’ll emerge from the
comfort of our homes
happy to greet the sun again

one day . . .

Originally published via Medium.

morning–afternoon delight

NaPoWriMo #29


Your Version of Love

Part II

Fresh blossoms|Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

You treat love like it owes you

doling out side-eye glances
trying your best to move it
when it’s firmly planted where
it should be

a damsel in distress
stressed to the max

and undeniably crafty
love isn’t on your payroll
yet you expect it to work

You lay down roots in
places where home will not
come when you call it

and surf the net 
in higher than
high heels
 hoping for a piece
of the not-so American pie
sliced just right

and sweetened to perfection
a sweet tooth’s dream
, victimized
and scorn, you carry love
on your shoulders asking
the world to pay attention to
your alter ego
instead of your natural state

Love does not accept collect calls
doesn’t grant you three wishes
or murder your work enemy so
you can get ahead
the ladder of life must be

and with love hanging in the
you put on different shoes
you change your clothes
you buy new makeup and dazzle
the neighborhood with fake smiles

Your version of love is a
heartache-induced party
conjured up by demented thoughts

but you call it “the past”
everyone slides into their
perfect places
 yearning to tour
a maze with no exit
love stands idly by
scoping out the scenery

intent on seeing what you have
colored red, turned it blue, and
made it green
with envy and absolutely
no love

Musical inspiration: Tennessee Whiskey/Drink You Away — Justin Timberlake & Chris Stapleton. Originally published on Medium.

Part I