I'd like to think
you're out there
somewhere
dreaming of me too,
conjuring me in your head
like a birthday wish
or magic spell
and hoping someday
I'll be real.
But maybe you're not.
Maybe instead
you're going on with life
and meeting the next best thing
since you haven't met me
and she's good enough.
Maybe she isn't everything
you want or need
and you know
she might not ever be
who you thought
you'd end up with.
But then again
she's warm to your touch,
her hair smells nice
on your pillow,
her name fits
inside yours so easily,
and she's there
every day
the way I'm not.
I wonder if "there"
is even real.
How can it be
without me?
Words are the atoms of my being. They make me who I am, express what I feel, and give me a voice when I cannot speak. I live and breathe in the pauses between the start and the stop. Please note "The Anneslee Poems" appear as part of an as yet unpublished project. They are from the perspective of my fictional character, Anneslee Cooper-Clarke. All poems copyrighted © 2025 by Tara Goodyear.
Friday, November 29, 2013
Security
I have locked my heart
in an iron cage
and thrown away
the only key.
The heart beats
drumming against
the iron walls
are my only company.
There's no need
to send help
or to try
and break me free.
Don't you see?
I did this to myself.
That way
I can't hurt you
and you can't hurt me.
Ink-Stained Secrets
Every word I write
must be typed or written
in ball point pen.
No
No. 2 pencils
No. 2 pencils
or automatic
click
click
click
pencils
I can gnaw the erasers
off of
will do.
Ink-stained regret
that doesn't wash out
with the next wash
is the kind of permanence
I need
when I write
the words
'I love you'.
Words I can't take back
and will never want to
no matter how little
you deserve them.
I write them in a note
that I fold into fours
and light on fire.
Just because
I love you,
it doesn't mean
you have to know.
will do.
Ink-stained regret
that doesn't wash out
with the next wash
is the kind of permanence
I need
when I write
the words
'I love you'.
Words I can't take back
and will never want to
no matter how little
you deserve them.
I write them in a note
that I fold into fours
and light on fire.
Just because
I love you,
it doesn't mean
you have to know.
This Weight
There is a heaviness
in my heart
that took up residence
when you left.
It's a permanent
sort of thing,
this weight.
A change of address
took place
but nothing changed.
It is years
of laughter
and tears
and every memory
in between,
this weight,
and I can't seem
to set it down.
My heart holds on
as it grows stronger
from carrying around
the burden of you
and I know
I will never be rid
of it,
this weight.
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