Game of Chance

Dice roll across the glitter table,
tumbling, running every which way,
never knowing when they'll stop.

Cards dealt on the green,
snapping with the turn,
never knowing what will come up.

Slots flash their symbols by,
clinking with the roll,
never knowing what will show.

Everything is just a game,
a game of chance,
a chance at love,
a chance at success,
a chance for a win.

Can't Forgive

I can't forgive the past
or leave it in the dust
but I can move on and live my life
how I want to live
not how they expected me to.
I can rise above
and leave them on the ground.
I can show them
just who I am.
No more will I wonder.
No more will I regret.
I only need those around me
that care and can forget.
I can be me, no matter him.
And I will walk with confidence
and beat them at their own game.
For I am me.

Chop

Once the idea was there, there was no going back.
There would be no more messes in the morning
or battles with the endless curls and knots.
No more wet t shirts after the daily shower
or hair ties going missing after each new style.

Sitting in the chair, there was only embracing the present.
There was watching each inch drop off the ends
and ounce by ounce, my head would lighten.
There was only a smile crossing my lips
of the anticipation of the new.

Finishing up, there was much rejoicing.
There was the enjoyment of the shortened locks
and the pictures snapped of the long gone curls.
And just that little cut, embraced my personality
and introduced the new me to the world.

Stranger in the Crowd- revised

Lights flashing overhead, blinding those that dare.
Beats filling every corner and crack, addicting.
Sparkles flying off shirts and tops, glittering off the walls.
Caught flooded in the crowd, lost.

Bass keeps drawing me to the floor, hiding me.
Drink drains my head, making left right and right left.
Men come up from behind, taunting.
But I'm only surfing through the crowd, looking for you.

But you're gone, scared away from the crowd and the loud.
Left me to die in this mess of flesh, beating and sweating.
Suffocating under the heat, crumbling to the dirt soaked floor.
Water drips in my face, eyes blinking uncontrollably when everything goes black.

Girlfight

You wanna do this?
Whites of eyes pop, glaring.
Muscles ripple and flex, angry.
First contact is made, a light punch.
Another punch of the fists, harder.
Slaps join the punches, testing.
Nails come out, breaking skin.
Teeth latch onto fresh flesh, ripping.
Hair pulled from roots, pain.
Body on other body, fury.
Pain seeps into bones and nerves, ow.
Mercy.

Stranger in the Crowd

Lights flashing overhead, blinding those that dare.
Beats filling every corner and crack, addicting.
Sparkles flying off shirts and tops, glittering off the walls.
Caught flooded in the crowd, lost.

Bass keeps drawing me to the floor, hiding me.
Drink drains my head, making left right and right left.
Men come up from behind, taunting.
But I'm only surfing through the crowd, looking for you.

But you're gone, scared away from the crowd and the loud.
Left me to die in this mess of flesh, beating and sweating.
Suffocating under the heat, crumbling to the dirt soaked floor.
For a second the crowd clears and there stands you, found.

On the Edge

I'm on the edge,
fighting to understand,
battling the enemy,
because I will never get it,
I'll never win the fight,
but I'm going to try
because I'm on the edge.

I'll stand on the edge,
leaning over the side,
walking the line,
bravely grazing down,
ready to jump,
off this edge.

I'll step away from the edge,
once you grab for my arm,
and pull me away from danger,
hold me close,
scold me for trying,
but I'll be good once you
teach me to stay away from the edge.

Just a Walk in the Park

just a humid summer evening,
where lazing on the porch
turns into an evening car ride.
when grandpa says let's go
just don't tell your parents
as we drive off to the park.

Mittineague Park, West Springfield, MA
the heart of nature
where balancing along the edge of stone bridges
and calling out loud to birds is ok,
when everything was happy.

when picking wildflowers with grandma,
and attempting to learn bird calls with grandpa,
is how i spent my summer days.

but not anymore, oh no.
the old bridge is covered in gang graffiti.
the wildflowers are gone.
and the birds don't sing half as loud.

i can't bring my grandparents back.
i can't go back there and be the same.
but i have the memory,
i have the thoughts
and i can remember
forever.

Sweatshirt

Sitting in a clump in the back of the closet,
curled up and crumpled in a ball,
sat that sweatshirt, that piece of you.

I threw that sweatshirt out the door,
the day I found you didn't care anymore,
when I no longer felt safe inside its folds.

Getting that ball of blue out of my life,
was the best decision I could ever make,
when the cascade of fabric no longer fell to my knees.

So many things that I wished had happened,
So many emotions I wish were told,
but they weren't; they bundled in the sweatshirt,
hidden in your masked fragrance. 

I no longer miss that sweatshirt,
I'm done pretending like it hurt,
it needed to happen
and now I know why.

I just needed to say one final
Goodbye.

The Man With a Smile

Rest in peace, Marc Middleman. You will be forever missed and in our hearts.

I once met a man who always had a smile on,
who always reached out and helped all in need,
who loved his family more than anything.

I knew a man who always had a smile on,
who cared deeply for the world,
and was forever a fighter.

I miss that man who always had a smile on,
but I know he is safe and in heaven,
singing and dancing with the angels.