Posted in Forgotten writings, New Work, Poetry


Break it up, break it up
store it in boxes
divide it into compartments
with neat little labels
and color-coded dividers…

Leave some things here,
in this odd storage;
You’ll feel lighter.

And the rest?
Well, they’re free to be;
free to roam,
except when opposites
become truth.

But it’s my mind –
it don’t quite fit
within these bonds I’ve created
to restrain its willful roaming…

And sorting
is now a bit of a personal nightmare;
It seems
the more and the more
I attempt to refrain
from the compartmental,

the more I find
in these hurt lockers;
put away, forgotten –
break it up,

but don’t bring it home.




26 August 2019


Curating Personal Year 9. Wife and mom of 3. Writer. Zentrovert. Aspiring Engineer. Resident Badass.

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