Tabitha Vohn's Blog, page 8
March 25, 2016
Poem of the Week: Someone You Can Never Have
" I wanted to smell that burnt midnight again, I wanted to feel that wind. It was a secret wanting, like a song I couldn't stop humming, or loving someone I could never have. " -Janet Fitch
It's easy to want what's not real.
When all you ever know of someone
is
that beautiful sad longing
they let you see
How it makes their hearts hurt
to look at you.
They are not wise to your bad days
and You can lie
and say that
with them
that adoration
that pedestal you can never fall from
is tangible.
Because no one so consumed
with the contours of someone's face
that
in-your-soul stare
could ever get distracted by the mortgage bill
or grow bored of your bed.
You imagine sunsets in the canyon
love-making on fallen leaves
that being someone's
everyone
everything
would mean never losing that look.
Like all they see is the best in you
like they wouldn't forget how your skin saved them
like "time and a place" would never roll across their tongue
like their good morning's and good night's would be
like poetry
their cries like music
And those sentiments wouldn't stiffen with age
or wither with disuse.
That someone you can never have
doesn't need to be reminded that
being loved is not a chore.
Yet when our souls grow sick of our bodies
and our bodies grow sick of ourselves
it's no surprise that passion wanes
that wanting begs to be treasured in its transience
that to hear that
twin soul melody
is as haunting
and painful
as loving someone
you can never have.
It's easy to want what's not real.
When all you ever know of someone
is
that beautiful sad longing
they let you see
How it makes their hearts hurt
to look at you.
They are not wise to your bad days
and You can lie
and say that
with them
that adoration
that pedestal you can never fall from
is tangible.
Because no one so consumed
with the contours of someone's face
that
in-your-soul stare
could ever get distracted by the mortgage bill
or grow bored of your bed.
You imagine sunsets in the canyon
love-making on fallen leaves
that being someone's
everyone
everything
would mean never losing that look.
Like all they see is the best in you
like they wouldn't forget how your skin saved them
like "time and a place" would never roll across their tongue
like their good morning's and good night's would be
like poetry
their cries like music
And those sentiments wouldn't stiffen with age
or wither with disuse.
That someone you can never have
doesn't need to be reminded that
being loved is not a chore.
Yet when our souls grow sick of our bodies
and our bodies grow sick of ourselves
it's no surprise that passion wanes
that wanting begs to be treasured in its transience
that to hear that
twin soul melody
is as haunting
and painful
as loving someone
you can never have.
March 19, 2016
Poem of the Week: Say Something
Mom always said
give your father a hug.
As if I were oblivious to
the cringe in your skin
and
eyes glued to the television.
I won't speak of the years
spent wondering what must have been
so wrong with me
to make a father
shrink
from the arms of his daughter.
For all I know now of your demons
I'd say I'd got off easy
--It took you twenty-one years
to ever say to my face
that you loved me--
And although I know
you did the best that you
knew how to do
I need to acknowledge
that no amount
of strange men's
shy winks,
come-at-me smiles,
undress-me eyes,
brushed fingers,
warm scents,
wistful glances,
or willing skin
could ever fit
that empty space between my arms
that your brokenness
could not fill.
give your father a hug.
As if I were oblivious to
the cringe in your skin
and
eyes glued to the television.
I won't speak of the years
spent wondering what must have been
so wrong with me
to make a father
shrink
from the arms of his daughter.
For all I know now of your demons
I'd say I'd got off easy
--It took you twenty-one years
to ever say to my face
that you loved me--
And although I know
you did the best that you
knew how to do
I need to acknowledge
that no amount
of strange men's
shy winks,
come-at-me smiles,
undress-me eyes,
brushed fingers,
warm scents,
wistful glances,
or willing skin
could ever fit
that empty space between my arms
that your brokenness
could not fill.
March 11, 2016
Poem of the Week: Someone Else
That Someone Else
knows no fear
She wouldn't have hyperventilated on
step 350 of steel, see-through grates
leading down to the hollowed core of a glacier
that she
would never get to see
but would regret
collapsed in a lawn chair
breathing lavender air
instead of living
Fear's bitch not its master.
She'd sleep through a night
without having to exorcise
riotous whispers with psalms
harbingers of doom that speak in
tunnel vision darkness
She is someone who kills on contact
before the path caves in.
Someone who would rather regret
what is said
than
what remains unspoken
whose words spit affection
not trepidation
Someone who can love without the burden of want
build bridges not walls
make hummus not wars
busy living instead of dying
putting old demons to rest.
knows no fear
She wouldn't have hyperventilated on
step 350 of steel, see-through grates
leading down to the hollowed core of a glacier
that she
would never get to see
but would regret
collapsed in a lawn chair
breathing lavender air
instead of living
Fear's bitch not its master.
She'd sleep through a night
without having to exorcise
riotous whispers with psalms
harbingers of doom that speak in
tunnel vision darkness
She is someone who kills on contact
before the path caves in.
Someone who would rather regret
what is said
than
what remains unspoken
whose words spit affection
not trepidation
Someone who can love without the burden of want
build bridges not walls
make hummus not wars
busy living instead of dying
putting old demons to rest.
March 4, 2016
Poem of the Week: Thank or Apologize to Someone
Pap,
I'm sorry I wasn't there when you died
You were one of my favorite people
the one who would let me sit in your lap for hours
reading me the same old stories
you'd let me lay on the horn of your old pickup the whole way down the road, which I thought was the best thing ever.
with you
judgment or cruelty
were foreign concepts
and love was an easy smile
a quiet contentment
unspoken between two bashful souls
afraid of words
who could never speak it
but when it came to you and me
the important stuff was just understood.
and for a little girl whose father used "bitch", "stupid", "ignorant"
as pet names
your love was a thing
-necessary-
you were the closest thing to father-love that I ever got.
And how did I repay you for that?
by telling myself that heart attack victims surely died right away or not at all
by flaking on more than one hospital visit, thinking I'd see you when you got home
By letting you die, wondering why
the person who understood you best
never showed when you needed them most
How a 5:30 am phone call
couldn't shatter my denial. How a funeral on my 15th birthday didn't
hit
til I saw your casket.
And afterwards, when J--- and I were put on suicide watch with Nana; an entire year spent taking turns alone with her night after night
a fifteen-year-old girl and a twelve-year-old boy
trying to fill adult shoes
fill the emptiness you'd left
stuffing our own grief out of reach because at least we weren't trying to fucking kill ourselves
and who consoles grieving children when the entire support system is grieving themselves? or screaming about how they wished they were dead
looking to kids for comfort we didn't have words for
and with you gone
no one left who understood my silence
that same silence that would rage in me
blind panic
years of sleepless nights
numb nerve endings
fainting spells
dread that permeated my skin like the damp mold of your grave
it took three long years to come out of it
not realizing how easy I got off until I started counting the scars down J---'s arms and legs
both of us trying to confound our demons
with temporary sacrifices
I spent many nights praying he wouldn't die
afraid my silence would cause it
or my voice hasten it
I knew the memories he wanted to escape
But...my guilt over letting you down, it's kept me rooted
helped me stand by him through it
it showed me the selfishness I had to kill
along with my predilection for silence
to be calm in the face of death
because yours was so
life-shattering
I know what it is to face the worst, not just to lose someone you loved but someone you needed
and I think you'd be proud of me
because I sang to Grandma when she could no longer speak
and on Christmas day I sat by your brother's deathbed
I whispered hymns and told him how jealous I was that he'd get to see you soon; even Dad showed, we made sure he didn't die alone.
It's my life's burden that every time I think of you
it's bittersweet
that
now that I'm no longer
afraid of words
that to tell you I love you,
that your love was everything,
that I'm sorry I let you down
will just have to remain
those things between us
left unspoken.
I'm sorry I wasn't there when you died
You were one of my favorite people
the one who would let me sit in your lap for hours
reading me the same old stories
you'd let me lay on the horn of your old pickup the whole way down the road, which I thought was the best thing ever.
with you
judgment or cruelty
were foreign concepts
and love was an easy smile
a quiet contentment
unspoken between two bashful souls
afraid of words
who could never speak it
but when it came to you and me
the important stuff was just understood.
and for a little girl whose father used "bitch", "stupid", "ignorant"
as pet names
your love was a thing
-necessary-
you were the closest thing to father-love that I ever got.
And how did I repay you for that?
by telling myself that heart attack victims surely died right away or not at all
by flaking on more than one hospital visit, thinking I'd see you when you got home
By letting you die, wondering why
the person who understood you best
never showed when you needed them most
How a 5:30 am phone call
couldn't shatter my denial. How a funeral on my 15th birthday didn't
hit
til I saw your casket.
And afterwards, when J--- and I were put on suicide watch with Nana; an entire year spent taking turns alone with her night after night
a fifteen-year-old girl and a twelve-year-old boy
trying to fill adult shoes
fill the emptiness you'd left
stuffing our own grief out of reach because at least we weren't trying to fucking kill ourselves
and who consoles grieving children when the entire support system is grieving themselves? or screaming about how they wished they were dead
looking to kids for comfort we didn't have words for
and with you gone
no one left who understood my silence
that same silence that would rage in me
blind panic
years of sleepless nights
numb nerve endings
fainting spells
dread that permeated my skin like the damp mold of your grave
it took three long years to come out of it
not realizing how easy I got off until I started counting the scars down J---'s arms and legs
both of us trying to confound our demons
with temporary sacrifices
I spent many nights praying he wouldn't die
afraid my silence would cause it
or my voice hasten it
I knew the memories he wanted to escape
But...my guilt over letting you down, it's kept me rooted
helped me stand by him through it
it showed me the selfishness I had to kill
along with my predilection for silence
to be calm in the face of death
because yours was so
life-shattering
I know what it is to face the worst, not just to lose someone you loved but someone you needed
and I think you'd be proud of me
because I sang to Grandma when she could no longer speak
and on Christmas day I sat by your brother's deathbed
I whispered hymns and told him how jealous I was that he'd get to see you soon; even Dad showed, we made sure he didn't die alone.
It's my life's burden that every time I think of you
it's bittersweet
that
now that I'm no longer
afraid of words
that to tell you I love you,
that your love was everything,
that I'm sorry I let you down
will just have to remain
those things between us
left unspoken.
February 26, 2016
Poem of the Week: 3 Truths 1 Lie
Trying to love you
has become a decades-old lie
where
faking forced affections feels
something like hate
the answer-less question
of
"why is this so hard?"
breeds surface excuses like
what do you expect when you throw an ex-Goth, Neo-hippie in the same enclosed space with
a camo-wearing, Solo cup song-loving, ex-cheerleader
vying for the attentions of the same man
who could love us both separately
but not equally
one of us always having to lose
our unspoken lie
that we never noticed
or pretended that daily tug of war between us didn't exist
all the while the walls closing in on me with every
late arrival
every unpaid loan
due to your lack of interest
every time you left a mess for me to clean up
abandoned room, clothes still on hangers, no forwarding address
your could never look past your oceans of entitlement
your U-O-M-E's
to see the faces or hearts of the loved ones you dragged under
too busy running away from yourself
or maybe from me
because the truth is I could never trust you
and I wish I could tell you that
without being cruel
but no matter our polar likeness
how can I confront you with our fraud
to speak what-deep down- we both know
that if I could have loved you
I would have welcomed that blindness
because forgiveness is a foreign country I'd like to visit
and healing as unfathomable
as continuing to live this lie.
has become a decades-old lie
where
faking forced affections feels
something like hate
the answer-less question
of
"why is this so hard?"
breeds surface excuses like
what do you expect when you throw an ex-Goth, Neo-hippie in the same enclosed space with
a camo-wearing, Solo cup song-loving, ex-cheerleader
vying for the attentions of the same man
who could love us both separately
but not equally
one of us always having to lose
our unspoken lie
that we never noticed
or pretended that daily tug of war between us didn't exist
all the while the walls closing in on me with every
late arrival
every unpaid loan
due to your lack of interest
every time you left a mess for me to clean up
abandoned room, clothes still on hangers, no forwarding address
your could never look past your oceans of entitlement
your U-O-M-E's
to see the faces or hearts of the loved ones you dragged under
too busy running away from yourself
or maybe from me
because the truth is I could never trust you
and I wish I could tell you that
without being cruel
but no matter our polar likeness
how can I confront you with our fraud
to speak what-deep down- we both know
that if I could have loved you
I would have welcomed that blindness
because forgiveness is a foreign country I'd like to visit
and healing as unfathomable
as continuing to live this lie.
February 22, 2016
The Page 69 Test: Feature on TNNBC
http://thenextbestbookblog.blogspot.com/
Lori was kind enough to let me put my novel, Tomorrow Is A Long Time, to the "page 69 test". It was fun to do.
Check out the results on The Next Best Book Blog!
Lori was kind enough to let me put my novel, Tomorrow Is A Long Time, to the "page 69 test". It was fun to do.
Check out the results on The Next Best Book Blog!
February 19, 2016
Poem: "What Are You Afraid Of"
So I do Poetry Fridays with my students, and lately we've been watching Brave New Voices and I've been inspired to write again. I'm turning out poems! Here's one I wrote today. Our topic was write about what you're afraid of:
Siddhartha
my brother
I, too am afraid of myself
I'm afraid of where my mind goes
where Fantasy
iron diamond
potent
my realities distorted
can never be as intoxicating as who I
imagine you to be
a puzzle doll
pieces of me
I'm afraid that I love so quickly
affections like when I recognize myself in that pain
behind your eyes
can't get it out of my head can't reconcile that
mirror brother
like I want to lick your tears
like my demons and yours are bed-partners and loss
runs thicker than blood
twin light dark
I can't rescue you
but the likeness in you resurrects all I thought I've overcome
and it scared me that I haven't fully moved on and maybe
we never do
but I take twisted solace in the knowing
it's a thing
not a you
kinship that stings like love
split skins that mesh black magic.
Siddhartha
my brother
I, too am afraid of myself
I'm afraid of where my mind goes
where Fantasy
iron diamond
potent
my realities distorted
can never be as intoxicating as who I
imagine you to be
a puzzle doll
pieces of me
I'm afraid that I love so quickly
affections like when I recognize myself in that pain
behind your eyes
can't get it out of my head can't reconcile that
mirror brother
like I want to lick your tears
like my demons and yours are bed-partners and loss
runs thicker than blood
twin light dark
I can't rescue you
but the likeness in you resurrects all I thought I've overcome
and it scared me that I haven't fully moved on and maybe
we never do
but I take twisted solace in the knowing
it's a thing
not a you
kinship that stings like love
split skins that mesh black magic.
January 28, 2016
Where I Write-Feature on The Next Best Book Blog
Come check out my "writer's room" featured on The Next Best Book Blog: http://thenextbestbookblog.blogspot.c...
This was so much fun to do. A big thanks to Lori for giving me the chance to make the most of a snow day!
This was so much fun to do. A big thanks to Lori for giving me the chance to make the most of a snow day!
January 22, 2016
Free Kindle Ebook: Requiem for the Fallen
Get it free from Jan 23rd to Jan 27th at:
http://www.amazon.com/Requiem-Fallen-...
Tabitha never believed that the hardcore rock artist who had dominated her fantasies and haunted her dreams would actually feel the same, powerful connection to her. Driven to him by an irreconcilable force that she couldn’t conquer, Tabitha finds herself in the embrace of a man who is both her soul mate and her spiritual opposite. Together, they bind each other’s hearts, recklessly ignoring the fatal imperfections of their relationship in a desperate attempt to fulfill their soul’s desire. When their frustrations towards sex, commitment, and monogamy mount to a tempestuous climax and threaten to destroy their union, both must make a decision about the extent to which they are willing to sacrifice in devotion to the other. Requiem for the Fallen is an experiment in the boundaries of love. It is a tale of choices, redemption, and the childlike hope that believes in a power that can change even the most damaged of hearts.
http://www.amazon.com/Requiem-Fallen-... Tabitha never believed that the hardcore rock artist who had dominated her fantasies and haunted her dreams would actually feel the same, powerful connection to her. Driven to him by an irreconcilable force that she couldn’t conquer, Tabitha finds herself in the embrace of a man who is both her soul mate and her spiritual opposite. Together, they bind each other’s hearts, recklessly ignoring the fatal imperfections of their relationship in a desperate attempt to fulfill their soul’s desire. When their frustrations towards sex, commitment, and monogamy mount to a tempestuous climax and threaten to destroy their union, both must make a decision about the extent to which they are willing to sacrifice in devotion to the other. Requiem for the Fallen is an experiment in the boundaries of love. It is a tale of choices, redemption, and the childlike hope that believes in a power that can change even the most damaged of hearts.
January 19, 2016
New Cover: Requiem for the Fallen
A big, heartfelt thank you goes out to artist Christina Rogombe for allowing me to use her amazing work as a fresh, more appropriate cover for Requiem for the Fallen!
When I first wrote this story, I had wild fantasies of Victoria Frances (a Gothic artist whose work I love) sketching different scenes and including them in the book. But I knew that would never happen.
Recently, Christina shared her work with me, and immediately I knew: this was my character! He's metal. He's gorgeous. He's tortured (a lot going on in his head). The gothicism of the art matches with the Gothic romance of the novella.
I am happy to announce that I am re-releasing Requiem with some much needed formatting changes to the Kindle edition as well as to the paperback.
Starting this weekend, I plan on offering the Amazon Kindle edition free for a period of time. I hope you'll give me little labor of love a glance.
Happy Reading!
