I never liked hope
before;
it was just another thing
I had to learn to survive.
Now I find myself
yearning to embrace
hope’s comforting warmth,
and I am scared
to welcome it in.
But I think that finally
I am ready
to say goodbye
to the walls and the fences,
the isolation and the armor,
and crack the gate
open.
My heart weighed heavy,
a pressure like
the weight of the sky
against Atlas’s shoulders,
pulling me down
behind my rib cage.
A crushing force—
I watched it
sink me beneath
the dirt and ashes
spreading around me.
I burned with such
intensity and heat
I thought that there would be
nothing left of me.
A spiritual calling
disguised as death,
I walked through
the fires of hell
until I clawed my way
out of the underworld.
you learned
my history
and took it
as an opportunity.
now I stand
once more—
gripping tightly to
the shards
of my shattered trust,
craving relief from
the blood dripping
from my hands,
and terrified
of letting go.
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.
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 in 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,
feeling the warmth on my face
and on my eyelids,
I can feel something new being born—
rising inside of my chest;
an eternal flame that is growing bigger.
My soul is renewing.
My heart is healing.
My mind is finding peace.
I am becoming.
I am whole.
Dear Omaha,
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.
something shifts,
something changes,
the silence is louder,
the view rearranges.
time passes,
things click,
the veil lifts:
it’s more arsenic.
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 confounded.
Phoenix Marie Poetry 