A Cathartic Poem that is Basically a Public Diary Entry

Hey.

Don’t be mad, but I wrote another cathartic poem, using my heart as the pen.  Again.  About my late cousin.  Again.

Also, I did miss last week (technically) but I posted as soon as I remembered.  (4 a.m. the next day).  To make up for the lateness, I spilled my guts about my personal discomfort with physics.  I mention the post because I don’t think very people know it exists.

Anyways.  Here’s another gut spill.  (How do I still have organs left?)

I guess poets are naturally complex or something.  Or we have steel traps for hearts and hearts for brains and also the steel traps are made out of pretentious vocabulary.

But that’s just a hunch.

I’m stalling.  I know.  Sorry.

Shayla’s birthday is on Friday … so I’ve been thinking about her a lot today.  And probably will be all week.  I have devolved into a ball of spaciness and distance that likes to write oversharing poetry.

Anyhoo.  Here’s today’s word vomit/confession.

 

I’ve been thinking about Her again, but I am too
proud to mention aloud the motif of a dead cousin’s lingering
ghost that I have invented. She has been laid to
rest, and I too have finally been able to rest myself
between moments of self-invented
clarity, but I still think of her acrylic nails, I still think I
hear them tapping along to a song only I know. The
sound of a poet suppressing grief to stay afloat in alphabet soup.

My thoughts of her, a lost relative I should have known
better than I did, prompt me to hold on just a little bit
tighter to what I love—to who I love. (My hugs will last for days
if you don’t pull away.) Poetry has become my way of
getting things off my heart;
when I am full I can empty myself with a few abstract sentences—
shape them into a poem. But
there don’t seem to be enough words to empty myself
of the burden of the harsh knowledge
that she was my family and we barely knew each other.

—She’s 16 Forever and I am Aging More than I thought I Could

 

I don’t really have anything to say after that.  Please let me know if you guys actually like the stuff that goes on in the inner parts of my brain, or if you prefer the surface stuff that the mind readers hear when I’m spacing out.  I am perfectly capable of channeling both sides of the coin.

‘kay, thanks. ❤

Byyyeee, have a good night.

4 thoughts on “A Cathartic Poem that is Basically a Public Diary Entry

  1. How lovely that she still walks with you.
    How lovely that she is near.
    It’s so lovely that her memory brings you closer.
    How purposeful that you allow us to peek into your pain.
    I know of one more person whose life has eased knowing she’s not alone with her cousin’s ghost.
    Warm hugs,
    Kathy

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I LOVE YOU so very much and I am so proud that you have been able to share your heart the way that you have. I’m sure that you have helped other people by sharing, but you have helped me too. Especially by being you !
    I love you, and I love your writings ❤

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s