My third poem I wrote when I started writing again, because I needed to put out something positive into the world.

Cytherean Dreams

I can evolve. I can grow.
I can expand my heart, fill it
with unconditional love that pours forth
into the universe. My positive energy.
My glow.
Fills the void, engulfs the lost,
comforts those I love who are not here.
Not in body. But our souls lock together
and my glow lights their way home
to me.

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I hope he burns with guilt
and shame
and fear
and agony
after ripping my heart
out of me, bleeding,
and staring blankly at me
as if to ask,
why do you care
without your heart?
I hope he festers
and stews
and decays
into nothingness and pain.
My only crime
was to be blind
to ignore the demon in him
and see only the man.
But the demon rules,
and I want to watch him burn.


Don’t toy with me.
This means too much.
Don’t dangle my dream
out in front of me
on a string and yank
it away when I get close
to pulling it near,
catching it, finally, but
then left heartbroken, again.
If you see it too,
come build it with me.
Dreams only come true
when there’s faith and trust
and working through the muck
to find the buried treasure.

Willow Tree

My Willow, my darling girl,
I’m so scared for you.
Because I can’t protect you
from the neurons misfiring,
from the short-circuitry that blanks
erases pieces of you.
I love you so much,
your bright glowing smile,
your effervescent heart,
your caring spirit and smothering hugs,
my gorgeous dimpled daughter.
For you, I will walk through the fire
and bring down the healing powers
of the universe, no matter the consequence.
I love you, Willow tree, and
I hope beyond hope
to calm the shocks
and help you heal,
grow, strong.

[For my 9-year-old daughter, on her birthday today.]