“Mommie Dearest”

I don’t what I did to deserve you in my life
Crying, laughter, anger
Every step of the way, you were there
To light my way into the shadowy future
Like the beacon of your lighthouse
Guiding my boats safely into harbor
I don’t know how you are the sturdy wooden stilts
Keeping my house above water after the hopeless hurricane
Even though it means getting your feet wet
I don’t know how you are the strong storm cellar
Shielding me from the shrapnel and wreckage the tornado brings
Bringing me into your shelter, your comforting safety
I don’t know how you encompass me like the sun
Surrounding me by your warmth, which radiates from your heart
Greeting me every morning with a bright smile
Wishing me rest, leaving me with an array of beautiful dreams
I don’t know what I would do without you
And I hope to never find out

“Beautifully Bias”

As I sit down making myself comfy
I prepare for my daily chat with my therapist
For without his guidance, I would diminish
You’d need a microscope to see
How truly broken I am
But luckily, I have him

I’m not good with touching moments
I don’t like emotions
But with him I am vulnerable
A state I avoid at all costs
With him, I am strong, caring, beautiful
He’s just bias

Around him, all my fears are vanquished
All my foes defeated, and I remain the victor
He says I can be anything, cause I am everything
“You have to say that” I point out
“Just because I am your father, doesn’t make it any less true”
And I smile,
Replying with an awkward “whatever”
Retreating back into my shell of invulnerability

 

Observation Blog ~ The Lake House

Just a little background information, one of my class assignments was to write down the things we see in a certain place, hence title observation blog. So, for my observation, I chose my lake house because no matter what season, it will always be beautiful in a unique way. So here it is!

The trees aren’t as they were when I last visited. The autumn leaves were a speckled bushel of colors, and the rustling of the wind gave the appearance of a kaleidoscope of monarch butterflies fluttering their wings. But now as I sit here with my feet dangling over the faded, oaken deck, I spot the bare bones of bark that grow tall over the water. They stretch up into the milky-gray sky, like cold black veins of the long winter. Clumps of soggy snow break off like icebergs that endeavor to sail towards shore before melting completely. The water itself scares me, how dark and lifeless it feels compared to the clear, warm liquid of the summer. The sun is slowly fading, although it’s not noticeable past the blanket of haze that shelters my view of the once blue horizon. The fierce wind continues to penetrate my jacket, piercing my skin like tiny needles in a game of darts. Ripples of water relapse on a recycled pattern as they journey from bank to bank. The boats hide under their blanket coverings, sheltering the bitterness of the winter weather. I look to my right to find bare chairs, ripped apart from their cushion companions and longing to be used again. The fire pit cover collects its own body of water as the increasing temperature turns the snow into slush; oh, how ironic. I can just picture it now: the flickering of flames as embers are projected into the air, crackling as they rise upon the stars. How things have changed.