EVERYTHING’S FINE

Everything’s going to be fine. That was her mantra. Whether silently or out loud, she repeated this phrase to herself at least a hundred times a day. It got her through morning rush hour, pointless staff meetings, or while running errands when she’d rather be taking a hot bath. Her life revolved around fine.

She knew her doctor was lying when he said the lump meant nothing. The procedures were routine. The medication was suppose to make her hang her head over the toilet for two days after every treatment. He told her everything was going to be fine.

She watched from afar as everyone nibbled on cake, awkwardly staring at each other as they stood around her living room. They had moved her furniture to make room for all the people from work who showed up more for the free food then any sense of mourning. The only tears came from her mother, who was burying her only child today. But the roses were lovely and it was nice to know that someone had cared. She would be missed.

The figure in the light at the end of the tunnel turned back to her, “See. I told you everything was going to be just fine.”

EDGES

the souls of those who
i have touched
with my broken heart–

the sharp edges
now help
keep them away.

PAGES

why can’t i ever say
what i’m thinking
to the people close to me?

everything just
—trapped—
in here.

all my words are written
on pages
they never see.

GHOST

“Hello?”

Her voice echoed off the staircase towards the glass dome forty feet above her head. The ghost took a deep breath, or what it remembered as breathing, and moaned loud enough to shake the antique picture frame off the walls.

The girl jumped. But, after a moment, she pushed back her shoulders and stopped her quivering lips. She finally took a step towards the formal dining room, still set with the family’s final dinner.

The ghost had to think fast. She was getting away. With a whirl wind of ether, he made all the glass in the china cabinet shatter and reign down in the little girl’s hair. She ducked, tightening her shaking arms around her head until the tremors stopped.

Again, she stood, squared her shoulders, and kept moving towards the forgotten door at the back of the house. A voice only she could hear called to her.

The ghost was running out of time. He stretched his mind back into a different life, found the right words, and scrawled them on the window pane above the kitchen sink. A warning to go no further.

The girl was not quite at the age of being able to read such words, or to understand their meaning. She shrugged her shoulders, took the key off the hook by the door, turned it in the lock, and tip-toed down the cellar stairs.

The door creaked shut behind her.

The ghost hung his head in shame. He had failed to save another one.

SPARK

there is a spark,
sitting right behind your heart.
it might dim a little
here and there.
tarnish and have
a scratch or two.

in its shadow,
hoping to be forgotten,
are all the mistakes,
the missteps, and
misfortunes of a heart
that loved without limit.

its light shines
when life goes dark.
lights a path
through the storm.
gives hope when
all feels lost.

we can lose sight of it,
misplace it or
try to snuff it out,
but it’s always there.
don’t hate that spark.
that’s the real you.

PHOENIX

let it all go.
let it all shatter.
let all the pieces
of the person you used to be
fall to the floor
and turn to ash.

now rise and
set the world on fire.

STAINS

my heart bleeds
like ink through
a stained piece of paper.

if you look
close enough,
you can see
the memories
i’ve desperately
tried to erase.