Bee Sting

As I glanced at my Romanian pendant,
The light had caught it,
Making it appear to look like
A bee stuck inside amber.
The charm,
Now I realize,
Is a bee sting.
Hurting my soul
Is the constant reminder
Of what I will always miss,
And never be able to name.


Tattered Dream

Photograph from internet of William Shakespeare’s quote: Expectation is the root of all heartache.

If you walk past me and see
That I am a tattered dream,
I want you to know
That you could have saved me.

It’s not that I need saving,
But that loneliness becomes too much
Of a burden
Silence as clear as glass.

Am I not worthy of love?
Am I unworthy of the same
Material possessions which you enjoy?
A home, a bed, a hot meal, and some clean clothes?

I wish I could not make you afraid of me,
Of the presence I know myself to shame.
It is not me that you see,
It is the struggle of my orphan hood.

A child cannot know safety if the father is absent.
A child cannot know love if the mother is absent.
Orphan, alone, neglected.
Because of what?

This word, this mark cuts me to my bones.
It slices through my heart like a razor.
It makes me feel the cold.
An absence in my soul; “too much,” it says.

The emptiness surrounds me.
I am blanketed by the stars above me,
And the ancestors who watch me.
While the darkness overtakes the cold.

Alone, alone. The orphan always alone.
I know I have lost my way.
I do not know who I am.
I start to think if it even matters.


As I dream of my so called better life,
I know things could have been much worse.
At least I am alive, I tell myself.
But, being alive is not the same as living.

I am a ghost girl, walking amongst the living.
Trying to become whole, complete.
But I am too shattered.
My fragments of dreams have died in each lover’s hands.

The illusion of love seems to be the only way
Of forcing myself to become real.
To no longer dance the song I am forced to dance.
I want to sing the song in my soul.

The beating of what I listen to is of my own heart.
Bruised by each failed attempt at mending myself.
Shakespeare once said that expectation
Is at the root of all heartache.

He is correct.
I expected to be sheltered by my family
Instead of thrown out into the nothingness.
The wolf laughing while his yellow eyes gleam.

So I say to you, if you see that I am a tattered dream,
I want you to know that you could have saved me.
You could have listened to my heart beating too,
And brought me away from the cold.




Sailing Ship Wreckage from Pixabay

Sailing Ship Wreckage from Pixabay

The tears from the sky would not stop falling.
Grains of salt deteriorating my eyes.
Sorrow far below, deep and cold.
The crevices on the bottom of the sea, hold their own secrets.
Never found; lost.
Unrecovered amongst ghosts of an era, eternally deceased.
The enemy of alternate realities.
The “what-if’s” of existence, withered.
An embryo of malfunctions.
The beginning of truth sheds its light, deceiving me.
I have nothing left but dreams and fantasies inside my own mind.



Image of Dead Flower from titled, "Fall Time Rose"

Image of Dead Flower from titled, “Fall Time Rose”


The time when love crumbles like the cheese
On an acne riddled teenager
Love fades like my first crush died
After all, he never new my name
Brittle leaves scuttle in the wind
And shatter like glass
As my foot walks over it,
All I can think is:
My love has left me to return to his wife
While he did this,
He stole the light from our home
My warmth and shelter has left me,
And the fire inside of me died
I’ve fallen
And I’ve let the colourful leaves surround me
They stab into me with their sharp blades
And the broken bark clings to me
As if I could make its life last longer
I am lost here,
And I let the earth fall into me
It covers me like a blanket covers a frightened child
Again, my love has left me;
What more can I do?
I am convinced that this is it
There’s nothing left,
But, my daughter comes to me
And sings me a song
And then I remember what it is I should be living for.