My notebook

Pieces of Me
I abandoned my writing
a long time ago
and then he came along.
Poems written to vomit
the ugliness residing within
taking up our time.

Anew, born again
a person still hiding
I think  prophetic
writing “Stained Pages”
while praying to stay clean.
Nothing remains within.

I wanted freshness
in hopes positivism
became a new way of life.
I devised a blog
to jump start my journey
fate stepped in.

Untangling this web I live in is extremely difficult. I get caught up in memories seeping in the pores of my skin. “If only” becomes a mantra that is hard to believe. As a young girl I dreamed to be a poet, a dancer, an artist of any sort, a girl’s nightmare turning. She could not eat, enter a classroom, hiding in her mind. She slowly disappeared further until it was no longer her that lived but a substitute image that seemed real to everyone but herself.

She only imagines happiness. A faraway place people live happily-ever-after. Seems silly to have two blogs, each merging into the other. This is the mixed-up life I live. To be continued…living in multiple worlds, switching between make-believe and reality.

Thanks for reading my “stuff” as raw it may be. I am only learning. Perhaps dreaming again what I left behind 40 years ago. If I entered my childhood room would my notebooks still exist behind a wall without a door or would a knob appear for me to turn and explore a life abandoned? J

Memoir Poetry

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