All

Burned at my edges

Leaking life from time, just patch

me up, call me fine

Halloween Part 2

I could feel the crisp breeze between my fingers, could smell the heavy dose of chocolate floating in the air and taste the bitter fear in my throat.

“Are you alright my dear?” I remember an old woman asking.

I nodded, wishing the old woman would leave and smiled politely while praying that my sister would find me. Hesitating only a second, she did just that, carrying two orange pumpkins full of candy and leaving me with my eye patch. Not a second later the silence crept along my skin expanding the tight ball of fear between my lungs. I remember the fear. I remember breathing in and out until my sister found my hand. I remember she slid her gloved hand into mine, twining her long fingers with my short ones. I remember I grasped that hand so tightly I never wanted to let go again.

Wonder

Count the stars, the moon and the sun

Close your eyes, be still in the darkness

Feel my fingers, follow them across galaxies

Through the stardust and dreams, don’t lose yourself

                         We’re here.

Open your eyes and gaze at the wonder of this world

Halloween Part 1

On the cold night of October 31st, I wore an eye patch. I don’t remember how old I was this specific Halloween, but I remember the sensation of wearing an eye patch, only seeing out of one eye. Holding my sister’s hand, we made our way across the neighborhood in search of candy. As a child you have no sense of fear, at least not until it’s right in your face.

I had no fear until the warmth of my sister’s hand disappeared and I was left alone standing between a group of older children. I know now that I shouldn’t have been as afraid as I was. I had gotten separated from my mom, dad and sister before. But if you’ve ever worn an eye patch it dulls one sense and you become aware of the others. I could hear the laughter of children down the street, the skipping of feet and haughty laughs of plastic demons. False demons never seemed more frightening.

Love & Death

Addicted to you

Can’t see you poisoning me

I’m already dead

Be Happy

“I wish as well as everybody else to be perfectly happy; but, like everybody else it must be in my own way.”

                                                                             -Jane Austen(Sense and Sensibility)

My Door

I’d open that door, but I’m scared.

You see, that is no ordinary door. It’s my door.

Gold and silver wrapped around each other like vines, but no thorns.

There are enough on the other side. I hope they don’t nick you.

There’s a lot I hope doesn’t hurt you.

You see, my door may look beautiful and bright, but what it opens to is an

anomalous world.

 

Will that frighten you? You, who thinks they know everything about my door.

Where it came from, How it was made, What it leads to…

But what if you were wrong? What if everything you thought was wrong?

Would you still appreciate the door, my door?

You may be wrong, but there is no need for distance. My intentions were not of

deceit, I promise you. The door, my door is still the same one you looked upon

all those years ago. It’s just changed.

 

I’ve changed and where you thought it led was a dream of your own making.

Now, I wish you to see, but will you promise me something?

Once you open my door, walk all the way through and do not close it.

Promise me.

Promise me, for I fear it may not open again.

There are things that frighten even me about my door.

It’s of my creation and That is what I fear most.