I used to be me. 

A recipe of pieces come 

together easily, fondly. 

Smooth as warmed butter,

calm as the sunrise bay. 

I was an amalgamation of

amicable pieces,

born to connect – to work. 

When I woke up this morning,

everything had changed. 


What’s Left

It’s flattering to hear people remember,
sharing eulogies for my former self. She
will be greatly missed. So much she had
left to accomplish. Full of heart and drive.

Nine years later and being useless
has become second nature.
It’s what I do best, really. Disappointing
others who see the potential smothered
By a cancerous pain that dropped in
for a surprise visit and decided to stay.
If only this, if only that. If only.
Then I’d really be something.
    Somebody great.

And of course it’s not my fault she’s gone.
I should never feel guilty.
But survivor’s guilt can be paralyzing
When the victim was another side of you.

So as flattering as it is to know how much
I am missed, it is crushing to know what’s left
        Isn’t good enough.


Never deny your feelings their voice.
They speak honestly and loudly of
Things which elude all logic.

Let your emotions escape the dull cage
You crafted to keep society at bay.
What kind of life must you lead

If you lock yourself away, separated
From those you try only to protect?
False shadows will take the place

Of a natural brilliance known as you.
And the world will lose one of its
Purest forms of human truth.

Take the risk.
Be yourself.