Poetry 1-26-2023 (a collection)

I was supposed to write something wonderful today, about writing or marketing or something akin.

I was supposed to sell my books to you today and tell you how much you’ll love them, and how fun my writing is. I was supposed to remind you to submit, to tell you to check out my social. To connect to me in a thousand different ways, and hey–leave a review if you can? And tell me you’re favorite romance trope…

But today…is not that day. Today the poet sits in the captain-of-my-soul chair. Today I want to connect to you with words and not flashing scrolling reels. Because today, grief and loss are sitting heavy in my soul. Because I’ve crossed over a line I cannot travel back over. Because I have lost so much of myself. And I am tired. Today I am tired. And I’m full of heavy words and thoughts.

So– I’m not going to sell you my books, or my enemies to lovers tropes, or my poetic tomes. I’m not going to sell you myself today. I’m just going to gift you a piece of my heart, while I still have some of it to call my own.

[image error]Pexels.com" data-medium-file="https://thebeautifulstuffblog.files.w..." data-large-file="https://thebeautifulstuffblog.files.w..." src="https://thebeautifulstuffblog.files.w..." alt="" class="wp-image-4982" width="425" height="567" srcset="https://thebeautifulstuffblog.files.w... 425w, https://thebeautifulstuffblog.files.w... 850w, https://thebeautifulstuffblog.files.w... 113w, https://thebeautifulstuffblog.files.w... 225w, https://thebeautifulstuffblog.files.w... 768w" sizes="(max-width: 425px) 100vw, 425px" />Photo by Vera Silkina on Pexels.comRootedI fella lone tree in the woodsnot even the soft whisper of leavestouching groundto announce my endand now, even slainrecumbent on the forest floormy heart continues onin irregular beatsa strange, sad creaturegnarled and stubborna stump not removed,rooted too deep a fixture of these dark woodsyou cut into my corethe center ringsthe childhood yewthe heart of my heartcleaved in twowith such a cruel and easygraceI am no fixture to youno rooted thingyou see forests,not mea weeping willow, scythed down, with one stroke of your sharpand pitilesstongue.[image error]Pexels.com" data-medium-file="https://thebeautifulstuffblog.files.w..." data-large-file="https://thebeautifulstuffblog.files.w..." class="wp-image-4981" style="width: 200px" src="https://thebeautifulstuffblog.files.w..." alt="">Found when they find mei will be alonethe questions and headshakesdirected in quizzical depthsto the loam and silt they cannot sort throughno reasoning to be caughtin bucket or screen when they find medressed as animals arein the skin i was inthe day i roared into the plaini will shock in cold whitefilled with trout breathand minnow kisses When they find mebroken shellbattered lovely in purple and bluehead struck rock knee scraped brancheslips in shades to make mountain bluebell enviousthey will lamentsuch wasted splendor when they find methe questions of whyi was lost to the brine a jointer to the self-takers before mewhispers will static the airof all the ways i failedand too long loitered in futility when they find methey will burn the empty packagewhile I sneak, soul-snake in waterdown river bends to the seanever to be found againThis Isn't a Poem for YouSo this isn’t a poem for the broken heartedit is not for those who were left behindor ghostedor dumpedor abusedor disregardedThis is a poem for those who watchedas another soul walked awaysat in their silencewas released from another person’s lifefaced pain at their handsor were simply ignoredinto nothingness…You are the warriors of timeyou, who have felt the stingof heart break and disappointmentsyou are the carriers of griefand the bodies made of scarsand you have lived throughevery burning cutand every lonely nightThis is not for the soul they broke,this is for the you that survived.This is not a sermon from some high towerthat you are stronger for itthat you are braver because of itthat you are a better persona heart bigger, with these new and ragged cracks to let the light inI will only tell you what I knowYou survived.you packed up your heart and your mindand you moved onyou accepted their silenceyou treated your wounds and closed the dooryou started paying attention to yourself when they no longer didand that carries weightself determinationand the ability to move pastthe fickle and soft-seated lies,of a love always perched to flee the very second things got hardYour feet remain groundedand you outlastedYou heart is a seasoned warriorand it may never let another inbut it doesn’t have space anywaybecause in their absencebeyond the echoes of their abusethe pain of their mistreatment,you’ve filled your heartwith the unfaltering loveof yourselfthey can’t ever move back inthere isn’t room any more.