It's Just Too Bad

It's just too bad.

Things never go as planned.

Funny how people

who seem to be

totally clueless

sometimes give the best advice;

ironic that they can't simply

follow it.

It's just too bad.

A beautiful dream

becomes a

less-than-shining moment,

and then fades into a

distant, disappointed memory.

Epic.

Fail.

It's just too bad.

Things that seem

too good to be true,

usually are.

Separating illusion and reality

is a foggy drive

in the middle of a

drizzle at midnight

- with four flat tires.

It's just too bad.

Indifference

I can't afford to

answer you.

I'm afraid,

you see,

that otherwise you won't realize

the crazy power-pain of

INDIFFERENCE.

Pain brings me to

defiance,

which leads me to more

pain,

until someone breaks the cycle.

SO HERE WE ARE.

What will you

DO

about it?

Marked

I've forever been marked.

It's in my blood,

it's more permanent than my skin,

it's overtaken my heart,

it's a constant pull.

It's YOU.

I can't help it -

when you're away,

I ache for you.

Even if it's just the

quietness

of riding in your truck

at night, holding hands,

saying nothing, soaking in

the moment.

It has overpowered me

- YOU have overpowered me;

I never imagined the

FORCE

in falling in love.

It would most certainly
break me down

- dissolve me -

if it wasn't so busy

building me up.

Nasty Little Voice

There is a

nasty little voice

inside my head

that whispers

"Watch your step,

or he'll be gone!"

Sometimes,

it doesn't just whisper, it

SCREAMS

that I'm not worth it,

we won't make it,

you'll get bored.

It takes a hold of me,

and pours in:

"See her? She's better than you."

"Remember when you said/

did that? STUPID!"

"He'll be angry when you

tell him about that."

"You always mess up. And

You'll screw this up too."

Round and round.

Louder and louder.

Until I can't take it anymore.

I demand for

SILENCE,

and quake in the

absence of voices.

With shaking hands,

I reach for truth,

and uncover a

reality

that allows LIFE.

Rain

Rain falls,

cutting through the sky,

reviving what is

DEAD

on the ground.

Oh rain.

Please come closer.

Fall on ME.

I am always looking

to be made

new.

Dark Clouds

Funny now

sometimes

Dark Clouds

don't scare me.

I wish I

ALWAYS

refused to

be intimidated.

A Little Overwhelmed

On Sunday,

I give it all.

Nothing is big,

compared to You,

the God who holds

EVERYTHING

in His hands.

But it's Monday,

again,

and I'm definitely

freaking out.

God,

do You

REALIZE

what You've asked me to do?

I have

A MILLION

"what if"s

for You to tell me about.

I'M FEELING

A LITTLE

OVERWHELMED.

The Middle Seat

THE MIDDLE SEAT.

OH

how I missed

the middle seat!

I dreamed of being

back in that spot

for many days,

and many nights.

The middle seat.

I love riding there.

You are so much

CLOSER.

The memories I

have there are

beyond

beautiful.

The middle seat.

You are driving,

music is playing,

my heart is full.

You wrap your arm

around me

and I wonder if

life can get any better.

Fight For Me

I want to be

FOUGHT FOR.

Tell me I'm

WORTH IT.

Tell me it's

ME OR NO ONE.

Fight for me!

Don't lay down and

let me go.

I may

PRETEND

it's not what I want,

but honestly...

I NEED that.

Great Promises

I wish.

But nothing changes.

There is so much

BEAUTY

in where I want

to be.

I understand.

But it's not easy.

Things

worth having,

are worth

FIGHTING FOR.

I struggle.

But there is hope.

I cling to

GREAT PROMISES

for what my future

will hold.

A Second Too Late

What is this?

A giant swirling of

NOTHING

is chipping my bones,

crushing my thoughts,

attacking my well-being.

I've been swept up

into the turning and twisting.

I reach for things

to steady me,

to pull me out,

as I come around

- but I always grab for them

a SECOND too late.

Subtle Yet Paramount

I can't make a decision

on what physical part of you

is my favorite.

When you hold me,

it is your chest-

safe, warm and strong.

When you touch me,

it is your hands.

When you walk toward me,

it is your legs.

When I have just left you,

it is your smell -

still trapped in my hair and clothes.

When we talk,

it is your voice.

When you text me,

it is your fingers.

And when we are

completely apart,

it is your heartbeat

for keeping you alive -

a most subtle

yet paramount sound.

Identity Theft

YOU KNOW WHAT:

I'm sick of this.

And I'm

DONE

with this

IDENTITY THEFT.

I don't have to

fix all my problems myself.

I don't need

your approval

on everything I dream of doing.

I'm not

alone in my struggles.

I haven't been

abandoned or forgotten.

I AM a

WARRIOR PRINCESS.

I AM a

CONQUEROR.

I AM

PROVIDED FOR.

I AM a

CHILD OF GOD.

So let's

DO THIS.

Suckage

You know your life

is sucking pretty bad

when you wake up

on time,

remember what's been happening,

think

"UGH.

I DO NOT want

to deal with this day!"

and go back to sleep.

So now I'm

running late,

too.

Flirting with Disaster

Impulsive things.

Only when I am

greatly frustrated

do I SEEK OUT

things to shock,

to thrill,

to flirt with disaster.

Abandoning caution,

I reach for the

unpredictable

in horrid hopes of

an EXPLOSION.

Labored Waiting

It was a beautiful tangle of

US.

You and I.

Together,

alone,

dripping with milky moonlight,

caressed by gentle wind,

enveloped in a hushed world.

Moments of

wonderful completeness

became the

masterpiece

of three and a half tortured months

of labored waiting,

longing to be

in your arms

again.

Oh my HEART!

Did you see it?

Did you hear it?

Just then?

It grew,

it came alive,

it was singing.

I was in your arms -

safe

warm

happy.

The pieces always seem to

come together

when I'm there.

And now I'll

dream of you,

as soon as I

turn out the light.

Because your scent

is covering me,

and I still feel

the tracks your hands made.

Dark Green Handprints

The smell of your skin

is clinging to my flesh,

my hair,

my clothes.

I wish I really was purple,

and you really were green.

And then,

every time we

touch each other,

we would leave traces

in the form of

swapping

colors.

Mainly,

I just adore the thought

of your dark green handprints

on my body.

Slow Start

Slow start.

I'm dragging my feet this morning,

as if my failure to

change out of my pajamas

will somehow delay

the moment I must

figure it all out.

What if I simply

refuse to make

major decisions?

That could be

good for me.

One Hundred Million Things

One hundred million things

that I wanted to say

flashed through my brain

from when I began to

slide out of the seat

until my feet

hit the ground.

I turned to

look at you,

opened my mouth -

but nothing came out.

So I gave you an

almost-smile,

shut the door,

and turned away;

I knew my eyes

were sad.

Theories of Identification

I think I view my life

through too many

lenses:

what was

what could have been

what I wish it was

what it is

what I distort it to be

what I wish it could be

what I hope it will be some day

what I suspect it will be

what they tell me to expect

So many lenses!

Nothing is in

focus,

anymore.

Large

blurry

shapeless

elements

with too many

theories

of identification.

Get Gone

Maybe I am a

coward.

Is it lack of bravery that

causes people to run?

Because my feet are

itching to get gone,

just like they

always do

the moment I have

reason to

fear.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I DON'T

KNOW.

I hope I find

patience in abundance,

because I am perhaps

the most skiddish

of creatures.

Gulf

There is a

gulf

yawning

wide

between us.

It emits a

startling silence

and my heart

cowers before its

depth.

I had not realized just how

far away

I had hidden myself

from this

until I tried to

cross the distance

last night.

Assault of Wordage

Tides of

conflicting

words

are assaulting me:

too much to write.

Pieces of poems are surging angrily

beneath my skin,

searching for an opening.

I would give in

if they would line up

and stand in order.

But in my

exhaustion,

no such luck.

Extreme Concentration

I'm messing up

my hair, again,

and biting my

bottom lip;

you know what

THAT means:

extreme concentration.

But I've got

nothin.

Perhaps my life will

make more sense

after I've slept on

the impossibilities.

Unlock Me

For months

my words were blocked,

constricted,

evaporating before collection.

It's a terrible thing

to be a writer who is

having difficulties writing.

The words came so

S

L

O

W

L

Y

.

Like scraping the dew

off of flower petals

with a toothpick

and trying to fill

a milk jug with the liquid.

Torture.

But then you reappeared -

words stream from me

like waterfalls.

I can't help it.

You unlock me.

Caterpillar Feet

All around me

the world is swirling with

color and beauty and sound

and discovery.

So many things to

write about,

to capture.

Why must I be

wrapped up

in such trivial things as

turning in homework,

finding a job,

cleaning the house,

when there is

SO MUCH

to be in awe of?

I suppose if all I did was

marvel at the wonders

of this world,

it would lose its

novelty

and I would be left with

nothing.

All the same.

I wish I had an entire day

to simply contemplate

caterpillar feet.

He Isn't You

I saw you leave.

You didn't even

LOOK

at me.

I'm sorry.

But listen -

you said

we were just friends,

so my revelation

shouldn't have hurt you.

Clearly I was right

in thinking

there was more.

I never meant to

cause you pain.

Press close to

The Healer,

and be free of me.

There can only be

one,

and he isn't you.

Horror

I'm speaking in

poems, now.

I can't help it.

The thin membrane between

Courtney-person

and

Courtney-writer

has been pierced with

haunting images.

I wish that I could

weep for them,

but my heart doesn't know how.

And, anyway,

salt-water words

can't heal

ALL

things...

The horror of it

somehow fascinates me.

Does that mean I'm a

monster?

I don't think so.

My soul has felt

much destruction;

I think sometimes it's

nice to know

I'm not alone with

scars.