I’ve known mothers. I had one, once. And now she’s in my heart. I’ve seen old mothers, young mothers; Mothers who always do right, or always do wrongs –all struggling to pave a road for their children. All struggling to lead the way. But I’m afraid, because I don’t want my struggle to erase my […]
With the Ouija board discarded, how can you not notice the chill that dangles threads of your hair and coils them ’round your ear? copyright Marie Meyers, 2013
Rainbows Do Come.
the beginning of a sad melody. The incense’s cherry glows, and is the only indicator that there’s light within the darkness. The music –a taunting lullaby in her ears– as she holds herself, and doesn’t fight the tears. So many years, she thinks, have I done this; telling myself Shhh. Everything will be okay. The […]
I didn’t really know you. You were just another friend. But when I got to know you… I let my heart undend. I can’t bare to think of my last memeories It would only make me sad So I had to forget my first love. And give another try. And now I love you. And […]
As I lie in my bed, Your name always in my head All I can think of is you baby, And everything that you do. Like the way you look Makes me feel like I’m dreaming, You always brighten my day Especially when I make you smile. No longer are my days a trial Your […]
I lean back slowly, anticipating the solid door. Fingers numbing, I bring the cigarette closer to my lips. I cough once; twice. Then pull the scarf tighter against my throat, my eyes searching the sky. The sun’s barely risen, the winter night’s frost still lingering against the grass; but on the topside of the […]
Lipgloss plastered, that way the smile stays stiff and the frown can’t transfer. Because really –can a person truly kiss cracked lips or love a breaking heart? Make-up caked faces hide the body’s imperfections, in a world where everyone still searches for “love everlasting”; You once told me, that before the altar is forever, then […]
When I was younger I wrote poems for my mother. They weren’t anything fancy, nothing award winning or of literary sensation—just short, small, not-even-more-than-a-few-lines poems; the kind short enough to be haikus but just lacking that rhyming scheme. I was sitting on her custom designed Windows computer—customized to be an easy-to-use gadget for the blind […]
Mistah Kurtz-he dead A penny for the Old Guy I We are the hollow men We are the stuffed men Leaning together Headpiece filled with straw. Alas! Our dried voices, when We whisper together Are quiet and meaningless As wind in dry grass Or rats’ feet over broken glass In our dry cellar Shape without […]
