I Hope I Find Anonymous Letters in My Inbox Explaining This Pain


I stand motionless among the rushes
Listening to the cattails dance on the wind

The morning’s coffee bitter on my tongue
A remembrance of life’s missed opportunities

Lunch Break

Pin pricks of rain
Speckle the windshield

The damp settles into my bones
Dirty patches of snow cling to curbs

A half smoked cigarette
Floats in the an oil slicked puddle
Of this chain store parking lot

Frantically scribbling
Into a dollar store notebook
The pain of hate and loss

Weekend Nights

Sitting at the kitchen table
Convinced I’m a failure

As broken as this Slinky
In my hands

Twisted and bent
The silver finish dulled

I throw it into
The black trash bag
That sits bulging with discarded memories
In the middle of the floor

May is Mental Health Awareness Month
If you or someone you know needs help, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255