Very rough draft. Currently untitled

You demonized this whole frame. 

I am a home filled 

with red faced accusations. 

My walls shake with

"You don't love me". 

These windows vibrate, sometimes

fracture and all is drenched

with isolation. You ask how I am;

we always look normal in the sun. 

You made me a haunted house

in your ghost town. 

At night, I wish I was void. 

Destiny

I am most thankful

you pushed me away,

enabling me to break

like a falling tree

destined to be

the wooden harbor

where other can dock

their troubles. 

Crossword Puzzle

You have always been

the crossword puzzle

I cannot complete. 

My words never fit

into your boxes. 

I have never succeeded

at your trivia. You have

always been the challenge

and every answer. 

Can I write something 

that doesn't makes sense

but makes this finished?

Time

I have measured time by songs. 

It has been an entire album

collection since I last saw you. 

Music is no longer good. 

It has turned into the ticking

of a clock. It has become

the alarm of your departure. 

Getting Serious

Let us never get serious

about us. Can we not

laugh our way through 

whatever this currently 

is, onto whatever will be?

I always thought I needed

a hand to hold with understanding. 

But how many times has humor 

been the shoulder to lean upon?

You know me enough

to make the corners of my mouth

twitch. You will never

need to learn again. 

Dysfunction

I would be cheating 

to look love in the eye

more than once. 

I have been married 

to dysfunction 

and divorce is too costly. 

Words

It doesn't matter how loudly 

you yell "I love you"

If you are lounging

on the other side

of sound proof walls.  

Unseen

Every moment made me miss

you more until time halted

and shifted me around like

a used cup in the back

of your messy car. 

And then every moment made me

miss you less

until you saw me again

and picked me up like something 

that could be reused. 

I have never felt so strongly

the desire to again be

unseen. 

Anchor

You settled my seasickness

when you validated 

my need to float alone. 

You sunk my ambition

when you sailed away

without cause.

I would have let you be 

the anchor

to my meandering. 

Good Intentions

Do not give me your good

intentions. I have no use

for another bag of bricks.

Give me passion that makes

intentions look like goodwill

donations. Make me believe

by setting stones to create 

a safe space where we can 

talk about everything

that went wrong, even us.

Miscellaneous thoughts

Sometimes I stop writing because it reveals too much about myself. I am frightened of me. More than that, I am fearful of my dependence on others. 

Today I realized that someone I have considered a close friend has never apologized to me for the duration of our friendship. I wonder how healthy of a friendship that is. Truth be told, this isn't even abnormal for me. I hoard people in my life that are continually hurtful without regard or remorse. I constantly feel the need to fix things. I would rather be sucker punched than say I am sorry. I do it anyways because I.... I actually have no idea. 

Ironically, I have indepthly discussed how hurtful it was for other people to ignore and isolate me. We can talk about this for hours but we aren't allowed to talk about how her summer of love (or not at all) was my summer of finding out that my dad has a brain tumor. And this year, this bloody, hellish, awful year.... I was "too depressing to be around". But it was my fault I lost people. That's what was said, right? Oh, I didn't know I was the manufacturer of LEUKEMIA. And for the record, being in a person's prayers is a cop out if that person isn't in the other's life. 

Maybe I should be more forgiving as this could just be an indication of a privileged life. But the thing holding me back is that before I experienced any of this bull (fill in the blanks) I was 100% there for others who needed me, regardless of really understanding from experience. I don't give a (fill in the blanks again) what you can give to me. Be present or be nothing. 

Where exactly does one go from here? Click publish draft and let the public see my personal ramblings? I suppose it doesn't matter, huh?  

Peak of Attraction

The way he styled
his hair signified
his distaste of it's thinning.
Perhaps, I should inform
him that men are at their
attractive peak
in their thirties.
It is I who requires
space to worry
that I would be wanted
at my peak,
much less
past it.

Forgiveness

And just when I had forgotten,

the patter of forgiveness

tip toeing to my cold mattress

tucked me in with reminiscing.

I'm sorry I'm not enough. 

The blankets are too tight. 

I have a fever of guilt.

Does forgiveness mean sleeping

with what I left behind? 

Andouille and Rice Soup

The awesome thing about being a poor, college student is that it forces me to get creative in the kitchen. Last night, I happened to make something pretty awesome. You may or may not know that I like to cook food using Cajun seasonings and techniques. This soup contains "the trinity" (onion, green pepper, celery) and a lot of other good stuff. Enjoy salivating over the photo.

SO MANY POSTS!

You may have notices a lot of posts really quickly. "Is she speed writing?" you may have asked. Unfortunately, I wasn't hit with a ridiculous amount of inspiration. Instead, these were things I wrote over the last few months that never got posted on here. Most of them were on my Instagram (tsionahnovick). 

Anyways, sorry for the craziness and thanks for the continues support. I will try to post as I write in the future. 

Trains

I only wanted this transition smooth

as a train changing tracks. 

But you ran in front

of my travels. 

I always loved 

graffiti stamped carts

but I never imagined you

would be those distorted colors

staining every place I go.

Wreckage

I set a flame to history

and walked my way through new

cities. But places don't change

the way a memory chains 

your ability to reinstate health. 

A steeple stabbed me and I have been stumbling around these streets

listening to the beats of street drums

thumping in my hollow chest.

There is no worrying about the rest 

of my life when I will be lucky 

to have the sun introduce

me to tomorrow. 

"This is Tsionah. 

She grew up in yesterday

and is currently working in

demolition. She is known 

for tearing down unstable bridges."

I set a flame to history

and the heat dried up tears

that I never had the opportunity

to cry. I only know how 

to break down,

how will I ever reconstruct?

A steeple stabbed me

not even in the back, but looking

straight into my dried eyes

demanding repentance. 

I walked away to walk aimlessly;

I am homeless without dysfunction.

Don't we all just want to feel apart

of something?  

Yet maybe I don't have to rebuild 

burned bridges to wave hello

across wreckage. 

Seashells

I was told that seashells

are magical. But when shaking hands

cupped the ivory over my ear

all I could hear

was the ocean. 

And there was nothing

more beautiful than the purl

of pacific waves

until I could no longer

hear your assurance. 

Dead Man

I volunteered to be the dead man. 

I don't have to feel

much. Just the hammock 

swaying as children's feet

bounce around my

body. My feet

are the same size. But I am gray

I am still, like those gone

before what is considered

fair. The counting 

has stopped and I don't want 

to wake up to search

for someone alive. 

Over It

I used to build 

ramps 

with bricks and plywood

and I soared over 

things on my blue mountain 

bike. Don't you remember

love, how it feels to fear

only what we do not understand? 

And when you're 11 you understand 

most of everything:

How to jump off swings

climb trees

catch bugs.

It seems the only thing I catch

lately 

is that wicked thought

of catching my breath 

as I brave that ramp 

over things.

Rain

Much like people 

Clouds find each other

hold each other

until they can no longer contain

themselves. 

Much like rain.

Missing

Whether the cup

is half empty

or half full

does not change

that something

is missing

and that thing

cannot be replenished

regardless the amount

of drinks I now consume. 

At Ease

Perhaps all love is tough

love. Why then would it be worth

fighting? And yet you hold

a way of smoothing out 

the most rigid stone. 

And no matter how tough 

I am, your gift of ease

is stronger. 

Staying

Everyone has words

regarding the grandeur 

of love. I don't claim 

to be an expert

but is it not simply

staying when simplicity

is extinct? 

Untitled

The DJ said he could get

me through the week 

with overplayed tunes. 

But does he not know

that weeks are situated 

between overplayed weekends

and weak beginnings. 

Perhaps the only 

ending I will see is when 

I close my eyes with finality. 

Holding On

I put all my eggs in one basket

just as they advised against. 

But what is one to do when 

there's only one 

basket accessible? 

Should I have placed the proverbial

eggs in my pocket

or perhaps a hole? 

Yes, it dropped.

But cracked shells 

and brokenness

also occur when you hold on

too tight.

Untitled

I had forgotten that happiness

smells a lot like sudden rain.

During droughts

one often forgets that feeling

of water dangling 

at the end of fallen 

curls. Such a shame that only dry

ground caught my smile. 

There was no warning 

to harvest the remaining 

moments. Now all is brittle,

all is starving. 

Sick Day

I told my boss I was sick 

And she asked what it was. 

It's a condition with symptoms 

of running away,

pushing away,

lots of aways. 

Then you hold 

on to people,

hold on to memories,

lots of holding. 

I wanted to tell the truth 

but they normally don't grant

days off for hands shaking

with rage and fear

or throats sore

for screaming truths

and lies. 

It's the flu

I spoke,

scratched voice 

wobbling phone. 

Possibility

I wish that I needed you

so that when I don't have you

I became an immobile slab

of marble. But instead, 

I find myself only wanting you

still, mobilized by sheer possibility. 

Missing You

Sometimes I wonder 

if I will ever be able to write

about all that is currently wrong.

People keep smiling while mine

falls into the pit of my stomach.

I can only scribble how loss

is felt most when you lock

your keys in your car

or when you stare blankly 

at the spot for a non family contact.

Searchlight

We went looking 

for the end of the 

searchlight.

We could have discovered

anything. 

But instead, how it feels 

to suddenly have beacons

turned off 

in the middle of a dark

world. 

Rough Draft

There has never been 

so many blue Honda civics. 

Even my phone remembers 

ten deleted digits.

How is it?

You are everywhere

and yet somehow

nowhere. 

Treehouse

I have been known

to make my home

above being inadequate.

Pine needles drape

around my safe space. 

I have pulled back

at enough bark

to know when there is sap

underneath, the perfect perch

for my sub par paintings. 

But here I am, today,

at the top of this building. 

I will jump

from the rooftop

and be caught by autumn. 

Like a child jumping to her parent,

I have always trusted 

the arms of trees. 

Distraction

All I thought about

when I was with you

was you.

I could have loved you 

had not your swift goodbye

so easily reminded me of the reasons

I still think of another.

I never wanted to realize

everything you are not. 

Family

Her mother tried to snap

one too many pictures. 

The moment at the coffee shop

was unnecessarily captured. 

And I was captured by the necessary

realization that I need

to be annoyed by a family

taking too many pictures. 

Crows Feet

Defeat is etched in the corner

of her eyes

like the rings of a tree

or the silver ring

never swiveled around her finger. 

She can temporarily smooth

it over with a smile

of desperation

while she laughs at the words 

of men much younger. 

Writing prompt: Don't let go

Don't let go of how you criticize

everything I do. 

For once, I have thought less. 

Don't let go of pretending 

to care so equally because 

the realization of falsehood

is too much for one. 

Don't let go of trying to control me. 

Don't let go of me. 

I still need someone

to hold me. 

Drink

They left with barely a goodbye

and you are too intoxicated

to realize that

loneliness isn't cured

by strangers sitting 

at your table 

but by that warm feeling 

resting inside your chest. 

That is what will tuck

you into sleep tonight. 

Sea Salt

I have this shell up to my ear

and I can hear the ocean roar

but the magic of sea salt,

whether swimming around my ankles

or in deep dark chocolate,

is not here. 

I'm holding this shell up to my ear

and I hear your voice 

making a promise to return my call

but the magic of confidence,

whether rippling around my shortcomings

or through my misgivings

is not here. 

You

are not here. 

Mixed Emotions

Before I could be angry

that you had invaded my coffee shop 

I wiped espresso off my lips

and fluffed my hair

as if you ever cared

about my hair. 

Oh Hey, Blogspot

I promise, I had not forgotten about this blog. I guess we just needed some time apart. I have needed time away from a lot of things and people and I have more clarity now than I have in a long time, maybe ever. 

I really want to get back on track with blogging. I would also like to invest more time in promoting this blog and gaining readership. I have at times viewed writing as a pastime, but I am realizing that it is a continuous activity in my life and I may as well do something with it. 

Keep a lookout for more regular postings. And don't even remind me how many times I have said that before. 

Loss

I am not sure when the right time to write about the loss I've experienced since January will be. I'm not even sure it all started in January. I just know that when my body is not fatigued from working at least 50 hours a week, my mind is fatigued from having too much time to think. It's funny how one can't seem to win either way.

I don't really cry, although I often feel bricks in my chest. Sometimes it happens in the middle of helping a customer, or when I am doing dishes in the back room. Sometime it occurs when I try to sleep at night. At other times, I pull over on the side of the road, intoxicated by far too many emotions.

How is it fair for so many people to make you feel like you aren't enough when one person who was always so encouraging is no longer there? There is no balance.

At times I wonder if investments ever pay off. I was invested in, but I constantly doubt myself. I constantly wonder if I am capable of releasing the appropriate payoff. And the time I have invested in others seems to be meaningless in mere moments.

It has taken an hour for me to write this. And I still don't feel like I should post it. For once, I'm not afraid of vulnerability. Instead, afraid of so much more.

Undeserving

Happiness

Stringing Me Along

Untitled

Heartbreak

I seek heartbreak
from your hands
only. They are gentle
as they grasp
my fragility; too many
seconds pass, like second
thoughts. Make it
a clean break. Not messy,
with gaping holes and pouring
words like "I love you".

Notes

A Contract

It is possible
I think
of you (and every
thing) too much.
Your looks are
a silent movie
analyzed in my mind.
Your words, the sound
track of a movie
I don't know the title
of. I rewind to each
time that felt like more
than friendship. I fast
forward to imaginations
that show more
than public transit jotted
plots. Let's make
a documentary,
interview me; I
won't lie. This poem
will be our contract.

Daisy Rings

Undesired