The Day Before Tomorrow

The Day Before Tomorrow

It’s the day before tomorrow,
some call it today.

I feel shame giving name
to such a waste of time.

I sat by the phone all day,
wondering why it never rings.
The mailbox was empty,
except for coupons
for things I will never use.
Television played nothing
but repeats.

I promise myself that tomorrow…
tomorrow I will let go.

But on this day,
the day before tomorrow,
I sit and strum an old guitar,
wondering what has become of you.

My cat nudges my leg,
“Time for bed”,
he gently purrs.
The clock has long ticked past midnight
as I drift to sleep.

When I wake,
tomorrow has eluded me again,
so I begin another
day before tomorrow.




I saw a ghost today,
she looked like you,
same clothes,
same hair,
same bulgy nose.

My eyes knew it wasn’t you,
but my heart was too shocked
to care.

I ran into her three times
in the aisles as I hunted for a meal.
My eyes told me the truth
but my heart begged me to believe.

The salad for one was bitter,
not like the Coneys
we used to get from Walt’s.

If I could tell you what was new,
I would tell you I quit drinking,
it never eased the pain anyway,
and I hope you would be proud.

It has been nearly four years now,
and the grief has never left,
never eased.

I force myself to live,
but there is no passion to it,
no drive,
no point.

…still, tomorrow I hope.

These Walls Can Talk

These Walls Can Talk

The pictures I hang
attempt to silence voices
in these walls.

Images of my new life,
new dreams.
They are new stories
for the walls to tell.

The walls will not
tell them.
Daily they speak their favorites.
Tales of laughter you brought,
songs you sang,
love you gave.

Cold and lonely,
they weep for you nightly.
They love you,
and will not
let you go.

The Scarecrow

The Scarecrow

The scarecrow stands,
blank stare.
Nothing like the one
from the movie.
He doesn’t sing,
or dance.
Guarding and empty field
he waits alone.
The field, once alive,
is now dead.
The farmer tends the crops
no more.
She left him to guard alone.
He watches over a field of
dead dreams.
Years now he has waited,
tattered and worn,
for the crops to return.
He will be ready.

Not for Me

Not for Me

Snow has melted.
Rivers bloated with run-off.
Sun shines brighter.
People smile with the Warmth of Hope.

Not me.

Spring holds no hope
for me,
no reason ahead.
Flower bloom
their fragrance bland in my nostrils.

Summer lies ahead.
Parties planned,
Graduations celebrated.
Cool waters renew Spirit.

Not for me.

Summer heat
a precursor to the Hell that awaits,
pain of burning Sun,
as taste of torture I face.

Still, it is nothing compared
to the pain I know now.
Loneliness since you left.
Pain since you last held me.
Despair I swim in.

No Hell will be worse than this.



Why did you do this to me,
make me love you and then turn away?
It was easy for you to choose
someone more handsome,
more secure.

Why did you say you wanted me,
loved me,
cared for me?
Did you need me to be the one
to say “no more”,
so it would always be my fault,
my choice?

Why does God want us to love
when it is so painful?
It that His way of showing us
what it is like when we turn our backs
on Him?

Why do I still want you back
when you ripped my heart out,
stole my life?
It should be easy for me to hate you.
But things aren’t always as easy
as they seem.

Why do I get up each morning,
just to cry another tear?
Is Hope that strong?

I Don’t Want to Hate You

I Don’t Want to Hate You

I don’t want to hate you,
but what have you left me?

Loving you hurt too much.
Watching you live your life,
laughing with others,
wishing it were me.

Calling you friend
seemed so small
after all we had been through.

Forgetting you is impossible.
Your eyes, your lips, your touch,
all imprinted on my soul.

Letting you go is hard,
so I hate…
or try to…
I can’t do it.
Love still trumps all.