the body keeps the score

i’m frozen
reading the words scratched upon my soul
long before i knew how to read

but now that i’m baked
i’ve got a new take
a new way to remake
and rewrite the wake

so many tears
for so few words

it is on me
to see
and send love
inwardly

my shadow bleeds ink
yet i hold the pen
with these words
i begin again

for my story will be long
with chapters anew
and these words
are so few

the body keeps the score
but the pen holds the key
the paper is the door
so love what you see

begin again

---

This poem is inspired by the book How To Write Evocative Poetry

maybe

maybe i’m not shy
or introverted
or defective
or broken
or any of the other put downs
my mind likes to offer up

maybe
just maybe
i am exactly who i needed to be
to survive

cautious
careful
considerate

maybe i learnt
to look before i leap
to consider all possibilities
to be sure before allowing myself to relax

maybe that negative voice
only speaks of the version of me
that has his guard up

maybe
just maybe
if you get to know me
if you wait long enough
if you earn my trust

maybe then
i’ll let you in

maybe then
you will see
who i really am

---

This poem is from the book Poetry from a Dark Night of the Soul

enough

why can’t
it be enough
to accept
that my life
simply is?

---

This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken

Uttered

a casual comment
uttered by a stranger
felt better
than an entire childhood

---

This poem is from the book Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly

With You

something
must be wrong
with you
how else
would you
see worth
in me

---

This poem is from the book Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly

You Say

You say you love me,
But you don’t know me,
Not the full me,
Not every part of me,
Not as I really am.

You say I should open up,
That I should share,
That I should let you in,
Into my inner world,
Into my mind, my emotions, my everything.

You say you will accept me,
But that’s a lie,
You don’t know me,
Not all of me,
Not the parts you haven’t seen.

Do you know yourself well enough?
How will you react to me?
What will you do when I show you?
What will you think of my darkness?
My pain? My weaknesses? My desires?

No.
You only accept the parts you’ve seen.
Then you make assumptions,
Of yourself,
And of me.

That I’m not that bad,
That there isn’t much more,
That embarrassment holds me back,
That you can save me,
And that you would want to.

It is safer to hide,
To show a just little,
Just the parts that are acceptable,
The parts I have practiced,
The parts that work.

You don’t love me,
You just love those parts,
You just love the surface,
Your love hasn’t touched the depths,
It never will.

---

This poem is from the book Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly