long i've been waitin'

two decades plus a year. breathe it in. soak it up. whatever your (choice) method of application is, i am feeling it. almost ready. but not quite feeling right. until i begin what i've always been waiting for, i'll be here, but soon walk out-that-door.

to heal and to grow.

And the hearts the reason why. It’s always “why”. It’s always what you spit out when you say “what if”. What if I were that way, what IF I’d done this. It was never the right way if you were always cursin’ and spittin’ and making your head split about all this same old type of bull shit.

Sometimes thoughts of you, you in the past make an ache in my stomach so great, you just want to drop whatever your carrying, however wide, and worrysome you may be about letting go. but the thoughts always retreat to that great infinite answer of “no”. it’s the love that was lost, the love that was meant to be buried, buried in a hole so deep that even if you tried to dig it up years later, it’d still be covered in mounds of moist, motionless dirt. Soil that seemed so soft, so many years ago.

new starts.

a happy home is a happy girl.

nobody's home.

those saturday days when you go out of your way

& you stop by an old friend's place

just to find the house quiet

the dog's in the backyard

but he doesn't care, 'cause it's his day off.

you take out your ball-point pen; leave a note saying something like:

Came by around 12:15, nobody's home. Just popped by to say hello.

Sincerely, Me.

You do this again and again until you've tried with all your friends

Nobody's home is as warm as yours

it's been you i see first

and why i feel welcome and not alone

let me in, let me in

i'm here and nobody's home.

sometimes i get a little tired.

not empty i'm not empty

swear it.

just like every other day

sick of feeling the same

not that girl you think you know

oh so well

can't you tell?

welcoming summer.

just like when the sun rises after a cumbersome and lonely night,

soon, along with the flower buds waking from their perennial nap

or the baby birds hatching out of a cozy coma

so too will i break out of shell-like bad habits of winter;

the hindering of springthings

and stretch my legs out on summer's turf

and yell "here i am!"

i've been gone so long

but must rejoice

slurring slightly;

influenced by wine

it's about time

this summer is mine.

city-like.

Going somewhere all on my own, a place away from home, at a distance away, but one that i'd like to roam.Won't know 'til i get there, but i feel i'll be free, a place all for me. Don't want to stay locked up no more, don't want to waste away another dreary day in the small city-like town where i was born, that i never could call "home".

Somewhere: i gotta go.

Somewhere: i gotta know.