The House We Built

I sometimes censor myself.
There are poems left unwritten,
nothing but unsaid words living
in my mind, afraid to find the air.
There are words I don’t say, feelings
won’t display because I’ve learned
to become the jester of my own story,
the fool who accepts only being half
of me cuz you can’t hold all of me
in the palm of your hands, you sift me
through your fingers like grains of sand
while time steadily slips away.

I have watched stealthily as my words
melt like sugar into water, while
they may be sweet or a necessity,
nobody ever really wants to own them.
Who drinks sugar water without adding
something in to make it go down more easily?
I read your words like empty messages
displayed on a marquee – here today, changed
tomorrow – words that lack staying power or
substance. Just something to draw attention, to
keep me from seeing you have always been missing
in action when I needed you next to me.
Even if you were there, all I owned was your
empty words. Marquee words that lack real meaning.

Tomorrow always brings something different.
So I stuff my true feelings inside me &
become who you want to see. Pretend
I can’t already see that you don’t truly
love or value me. Pretend that this
won’t one day only be a distant memory.
Bits and scraps I’ll remember like parts
of an unforgettable movie.

The bitter truth is love doesn’t live
here in the house we built & never
really has. Instead we welcomed a
caricature of love into our house & pretended
not to notice the exaggerated features of its face,
the floppy ears, the lackluster eyes and
the comical lips, lips so big we tripped over them
every time we tried to speak to one another.
We pretended love could exist in the jungle
disguised to hide the lies that have always
lived in the house we built.

Got a busy day ahead lovelies. I’m proofreading the author’s copy of my new book, Blues of a Love Junkie, working on a story for my upcoming book of short stories, She’ll Never Tell, and I have a mountain of papers to grade. So, yes I’m going to be very busy today. But I’m never too busy to share a poem with you guys!

On another note, my giveaway this week was a success! I have another one coming up soon. So keep your eyes and ears open. 😉

Do something epic today! Take a giant step toward that dream you have, the one that is wrapped up in every beat of your heart. Don’t think, just do it!

Peace & Love,

Rosalind

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About Rosalind Guy

I'm broken & my soul is weary/ my weary soul rebels, fights/ anything & anyone who tries to heal me/I beat my head against a wall of memories/ trying hard to break free from the chain of memories/ I can only be free by saying it so/ i weave a necklace from words and finally/ I find freedom/ free free free. As you can see, words are powerful to me. As Maya Angelou said, words are wallpaper of the soul. I have lots of nightmarish memories that threaten to break me, but I learned a long time ago about the power of words. They can be used to heal and destroy anything that threatens to destroy the person. Words coupled with love have the power to save and heal. I am author of three books: Skinny Dipping in the Pool of Womanhood, Tattered Butterfly Wings, and Blues of a Love Junkie. I am a high school English teacher. I am a former reporter. I am a mother. I am a woman. I am a fierce advocate for those who cannot speak for themselves, those who's voices go unheard. Check out my Amazon author page at the following link: http://www.amazon.com/Rosalind-Guy/e/B00BGH5F88/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1432491754&sr=8-1.
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