Writing

It's that time of year again

where some "news" are formed

and some "olds" are forgotten.

The faces of friends

become familiar again,

while last year's math formulas

do not.

We come together

I creeped through the doorway;

Looking over Mom’s shoulder to find my

Daily dose of everyone's obituary.

Each vine of life is

Frail and cradled by the lava of metal

Red is the color I lack.

It's rumored to bleed--but I never saw it this month

or the last.... few (+2 years) times

I've been sick for too long,

lacking something that will give "a women her purpose".

You created memories

And then got to move on

Leaving them untouched and perfect

Mine are being trampled.

Walked all over by my friends

My peers

I can't DO this

This constant emotional bombardment

I can’t breathe

No matter how hard I try

I’m still gasping for air

Drowning in the silence

Or in the noise

My own mind

Suffocating me

The trees talk,

you know?

They talk and if you listened

you would know,

they whisper

like kindergarteners

who can't stand straight in lines

but they can jump straight