Come Home

My insides are a pit of nostalgia.

I read some old messages

That you sent when you loved me.

The photos on my walls

Remind me of when we spoke

And when you used to call.

The pit in me deepens

Until I’m an ocean,

Wondering why you left

Like we meant nothing at all.

My jaw hurts from the words

And silent sobs I can’t explain,

So I write it down, hoping

That this time you’ll read it.

Because how can I tell my diary

That you won’t be around anymore?

Tonight I’m a black hole,

Trapping memories and words.

Hiding the thoughts I want to forget.

Erasing old messages,

Tearing up old photos.

But telling my diary that you’ll

Come home.

Finding Solace

She is the tears in my eyes

But the smile on my face.

A soft word

With a catch in my throat.

A slow walk home

With anger raging inside.

She’s a girl in a bar,

Dancing with her friends,

Her eyes blinking away her sadness,

Finding solace in a stranger asking,

“Are you okay?”

When she’s sitting alone.

She’s running mascara,

High heels in hand,

Sore feet and sore head

Waiting for someone;

Someone who never comes.


I’m going to start with my lips

Because they always say the wrong thing.

Then my hands

That always grip too tightly to the past.

My wretched feet

That stop me from taking a new path.

And my weak spine

For not allowing me to stand on my own.

Even my veins

That spill blood too easily.

And, finally, my heart,

That leaves me expecting

And wanting

More than I’ll ever get.


We are always waiting.

Waiting for the train,

Waiting for our Birthdays,

Waiting for him to call,

Waiting for her to call,

Waiting for lunch,

Waiting for dinner,

Waiting to curl up in bed,

Waiting for tomorrow,

Waiting for love,

Waiting to get home.

Waiting for winter,

Waiting for nine p.m.,

Waiting for the kids to move out,

Waiting for the kids to visit,

Waiting for a diagnosis,

Waiting to say goodbye,

Waiting to the pain to end,

Waiting to fall asleep.