I think it’s time to admit
The nightmares have returned
After thinking they had quit
And their mem’ry I could burn
The assault of three this week
Has come as quite a shock
My body’s feeling weak
And I wish that I could block
The visions from my mind.

Perhaps they have arisen
From taking a darker path
That’s released them from their prison
To help reveal the aftermath
Of the feelings and emotions
Buried deep until last week
By the physical commotions
That have given me a peek
At your legacy left in me


For hours on end,
I could sit and talk to you
About reality.
Or I can take the words
Of what is,
And build something new,
Something creative,
Something based on truth –
Mine, yours, or others –
But exaggerated,
Feelings not expressed
In the verbal repartee,
But the internal
Turmoils spewed
Onto the page,
Given life in a whole new way.
So, just because I write it,
Doesn’t mean that’s how it is,
It just means I’m
A different analysis.


Familiarity breeds contempt.
Well, I wouldn’t go that far,
But it sure can make you forget,
Things that used to make you smile.
Like attention to the details,
Such as ruby painted toes,
Or laughing for no reason,
And rejoicing in the sound.
When new becomes the normal,
It blinds us to things unique,
And we start to take for granted,
The little things with meaning.

Who Am I?

Sometimes I feel so old, and so tired, I don’t even know who I am. I mean, I know my name, of course, and I know I am a woman, but who am I? What do I value? What do I believe? What do I think? What do I want?

You must think I’m mad. How could anyone not know who they are?


I want to sleep, but I don’t feel tired.
I want to write, but the words won’t come.
I want to work, but I can’t be hired.
I want to stop, but I’m not done.
I want to live, but fears restrain me.
I want to sing, but my voice is mute.
I want to love, but no one loves me.
I want to run, but my legs won’t move.
I want to breathe, but there is no air.
I want to give, but I am so empty.
I want to win, but that’s not fair.
I want to hide, but all can see me.
I want to feel, but I’m always numb.
I want to hear, but there is no sound.
I want to smile, but I feel so glum.
I want to leave, but to you I’m bound.


I’ve never had a muse,
Not unless they were well hidden.
But since you came along,
The words have come unbidden.
For months I’ve questioned why
I’m bound to you this way,
So perhaps that you’re my muse
Is why you’re meant to stay?