On the brink of an end

There’s a world in front of me,

and I believe.

But walking these empty streets

feeling hollow with these memories,

a story of a woman lost.



Incapable of drawing my breath,

what have I done?



If there was a way back to you

I’d run through the dark to the dawn.

But I know you can’t wait for me,

and I won’t make it home again.



Today, you’ll live

without a wonder of what’s to become of me.

Begin these end of days,

I kneel to pray.



I feel there’s no time to live

or to doubt it.

I know I’m worth a second chance,

but what have I done?



If there’s a way back to you

I’d run through the dark to the dawn.

But I know you won’t wait for me,

and I can’t find my way home again.



There was a world once in front of me.

I believed in a world

that’s now gone.

Sidewalk

Sidewalk

Cement. Pavement.

Ground pebbles and sand.

I shove my face up close

to notice textures and colors

not seen from my height.

I feel the surface scraping

ragged grooves into my flesh.

Rough. Rigid.

No pattern to the coarseness;

A barricade of hills

the ants must cross

to get to the grass on the other side.

A rainbow of colors;

brown, green, purple, and gray.

A glittering confetti of hues

forever bound by solidified sand.

Dirty. Dusty.

Do you ever tread this sidewalk, dear friend?

Where would you go,

would you walk alone?

Or perhaps,

with a companion or family?

Would you walk, trudge, or run?

I walk upon the sidewalk

to escape from where I once was.

I walk for some unknown destination.

The sidewalk is my causeway to neverwhere.

How far will it take me?

Identity

Identity

Steam rushes to greet

the mirror as I push

the shower curtain

open

so that I can wrap up in

my towel and begin what

was to be a normal

day.

Escape the wet and escape

the scalding heat that

suffocates, wrapping

me.

In my towel I feel

like a wet dog with limp, damp

hair as I move from bathroom to

bedroom.

Catcall. What was

that? I peek my pink

face around the

corner.

Mom sitting on the

couch with some strange

man I’ve never seen

before.

So that’s the source of

the aforementioned

awkward catcall. I

sigh.

He says, “Hello, Beautiful,”

as I stare blankly. Whatever, I

continue my scuttle to my

bedroom.

Mom motions me into the

living room and I resign, still in my

towel. She spoke, “This is your

father.”

I squirm in my seat and open

my mouth to give the only

response I know, “My dad is

Jordan.”