mountain time

I hold a place close to my heart

where you claimed me

where sunrise wore
different shades of blush
where river ran uphill
(it seemed)

where magic came alive in snow dust
when you arrived
carrying my dream

~~~

© annie scribes 2019
all rights reserved

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senses in a jar

I bottled your scent
scribbled date on the lid
just like you taught me
so I know which memory
to visit
next

~~~

© annie scribes 2019
all rights reserved

the root of it all

if early years
were so fulfilling
why is today devoid
of warmth in veins
soul starved of affection

never have childhood memories
been so vivid
emptiness stands out
beneath neon light

some places, reminders
of how broken and needy
these cells have become

~~~

© annie scribes 2019
all rights reserved

one afternoon in 1985

came home
forehead bleeding
lost a fight with a boy
over a bike

a glance
at the wound:
“go back and show him
you’re not just a girl”

~~~

© annie scribes 2019
all rights reserved

keeping watch

It’s been a while, and things have changed, but pieces of her memories remain. He still hears her voice reading her lines to him, feels her move around in the room, sees her smile as he sings to her.

These vibes, ones he keeps sending– they’ve never really stopped. He promised that his ghost will keep an eye on her when he’s passed.

~~~

© annie scribes 2017
all rights reserved

a grave disturbed

They came just after midnight
with a note from the powers that be
to dig up wooden box
and retrieve the gold-plated leaf.

Each one too stubborn to listen
to pleas not to disturb the grave
where the box was buried
along with memories.

The soil was just drying
when their boots heartlessly stepped and stomped
leaving unwanted footprints.

Dawn saw the box pried open
and the morning wept
as the air of sadness stirred into anger
witnessing a piece of memory now struggling
to stay buried in the past.

~~~

For #inpoems 422 ‘every time I healed you cut me’

© annie scribes 2017
all rights reserved