2018
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I’ve been avoiding writing more than a poem. I can express more with a metaphor in print than I could ever say in my own words. So, here I am saying more than a few lines to get by; and damn my life has changed. Last fall I went through a lot. I was dealing with the in-between.
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I do not mind being the villain in your story, but I hope you know you are the hero in mine. You broke me so I could find my worth beyond my wayward mind. How far does your hatred reach? How high does your love fly? Find me in that place; I will wait. -AB Song
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It is not fair, the flaws Light only seems to acknowledge. A darkness that unearths words that should not be said, shakes a footing that was barely stable. We listen for the impact like news of a coming storm. We listen for the rain and wonder when the clouds will part. Beyond the things we
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I live with a writers anxiety where the words that reside in my head obsess over print. Anxiety so strong that my thoughts have formed into a narration. I recite lines in my head ignoring our current conversation. “Wait, what did you say?” “Please, can you repeat that?” Nervous laughter as my only contribution. Incessantly,
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Passion, One word, One stupid fucking word that sarcasm has now embedded itself We fight because we forgot the basics And now this is what we know I believed in a fantasy You are too weak to speak I was damaged And your pride made you too lost without With both of us surrounded by
Wishful Thinking 