Dear Stranger by Cara Divelbiss
Cara Divelbiss
Dear Stranger
Are you real or just a memory?
Through distance and time, it is impossible to say.
I hate you; I’m afraid.
Is it me? Or did you make me this way?
Your face is now so unfamiliar; it saddens me to say,
Meaning has no meaning.
Do you remember?
Remember the little tutu-ed little girl
With eagerness to prove her love and eyes so thirsty for yours,
Wondering if love exists in your world.
Love is forever; love is infinite.
Is this something that you know?
I remember, I do.
Because she is me, and he is you.
I never realized but, upon my aging, discovered
You are the reason I never really knew
Assurance and confidence with men.
Ah ha! It all makes sense now.
You were around but never really there.
It all seems quite backwards if you ask me.
Hero to ZERO, is that how you’re going to be?
Are you real? Do you exist?
Or are you just a memory?
A picture is what I’ll cherish always
Of our lives before.
I’ve never loved someone that I hated so.
You’re everywhere I look and everywhere I go.
You’ll never read this confession of my feelings.
Dear Stranger,
You’ll never know.
Broken Love by Rebecca Perkins
Rebecca Perkins
Broken Love
Your presence is no more,
Yet still you trespass on my heart.
You tread across each chamber,
Breaking my wounded soul apart.
My love for you is bruised,
A tender black and blue;
And now it bleeds a steady flow,
As I forget all I thought I knew.
Your absence stings like needles,
A series of sutures aimed to heal.
My thoughts of you and me are bandaged.
I lay numb and cannot feel.
Weeks pass as I recover,
And my wounds fade into scars.
Yet still I’m a prisoner of our love,
A cellmate trapped behind steel bars.
My only option of escape
Is to give love a second chance,
To garner up the strength,
To keep moving at life’s dance.
Though hurt I am and missed you are,
I am not giving in.
Although I may feel broken now,
I’ve learned life’s quitters never win.
Titled by Samantha Baldwin
Samantha Baldwin
Titled
My mind’s voice is hoarse
From so many ideas flowing at once
So many words need to be expressed
The paper is my echoing wall
These aren’t the words I want!
Some fit better than others
Though they may all mean the same thing
This choice is hard but it’s the best
A life flows from my fingers to the parchment
Yet so too does a new essence flow into me
Be it a poem, a story, or a letter
This is the energy the spoken word cannot convey