I am a Shadow
Don't call me fake.
I'm not.
I don't know who I am.
Does that make me fake?
Sure. Maybe it does.
Give me credit for trying.
My brain was rewired, my heart overshadowed.
That wasn't me, not really, you see,
Yes, that version of me was false.
But at the time my strings were tied too tight.
Cutting off my air supply, I couldn't breathe.
He was controlling me.
It's not an excuse, it's the the truth,
and you know it too.
I'm still lost.
My wings are broken.
I'm still somewhat of a reflection,
but not of him.
Not this time,
Please put my glass shards back together again.
Blood drawn, tears fallen, cuts open,
I can't see.
Help me.
I'm sorry.
His demon is controlling me.
Marbles
Depending on the place, time, or mood,
The writers voices are always good.
Each one fits the writing as if it's a ghost
Writing me.
I am simply the utensil it chooses to be.
Sometimes I'm a poe black share cropper off the ol'
missipp.
A few times I've heard Robin Williams walk in the door. All his humor and energy! I'm exhausted when he leaves the floor!
Once in a while, I don't remember when, but there a short gay southern man his voice was the editor in the movie "The Help" the town editor.
When I write about strength, I get the voice of
Dixie Carter from "Designing Women"
If ever there were a strong southern woman, she to me anyway, was it!
I have a friend in India that I speak to every day, sometimes my writing will have his voice, or my dear friend out in California I hear his voice when I write.
Mostly though it's just my little girl voice along with all the rocks and a few precious marbles I have left.
So that is it that is all and you thought you were odd.
Early Bird (thinks too much).
I wake in the middle of the night and my first thought is “crap...did I let the cat in?”
My second thought is of you,
because I think I can smell you on my pillows.
I don’t know why I woke up
(although it’s not unusual),
but thinking of you is distracting me from sleeping
(and my need to go pee).
I don’t think about what you’re doing right now
--you could be sleeping, but you’re sleep cycle is just as fucked as mine
(maybe that’s why we’re together)--
but of what we did today.
Talked and talked....
and talked
(mostly you, because I can hardly get a word in--
which isn’t a bad thing. I don’t talk a lot anyways).
I know that I love you.
I don’t know if I’m in love with you
(I don’t know if I ever will be, to be completely honest),
but I’m happy with our moment.
This could end sometime
(probably will end sometime)
but my time with you will be happy.
And that’s what matters.
Our Lives
Words cannot conceal the body’s tales
Of what we’ve won and when we’ve failed.
From head to toe, we can’t pretend,
Our lives are written on our skin.
Creased foreheads show signs of unrest.
Drooping eyes say we’ve done our best.
We stretch them wide until the end.
Our lives are written on our skin.
Mouths once turned up are now turned down.
Though we smile, lines reveal our frowns.
Yes, we think it’s a dirty sin.
Our lives are written on our skin.
#littlewhitenote
jcv2016
Drowning
Swimming in pools
Of uncertainty
Treading water
Of self doubt
I gave you my everything
Sacrificing myself
So you could see
How truly special
You are to me
But instead of a helping hand
Instead of a spot on your raft
You burn the ship I have given you
And dive beneath the waves
I struggle to save you
But you push me away
Saying I gave you a boat of lies
And that's why you set it afire
I try to explain
Try to make you see
That I am not lying
When I talk of your beauty
But you won't hear it
You are stuck
In your destructive beliefs
So instead of floating
Instead of trying
You give into the hateful waves
And let them carry you away
Down
Down
Down
Down
Never again
To see the light of day
Leaving me stranded
And alone
Not sure
How much longer
I can tread
These deadly waters
And it appears
I will soon join you
In utter defeat
As I tire
And water comes
Flooding in
As the ocean takes me
With you as well