Creative Works
I miss watching the sky turn into cotton candy,
Feeling the spring breeze and the buzz of the bees.
I miss the distinct smell of a rainy morning,
As seeds begin to sprout and flowers bloom.
I miss participating in my family’s annual easter egg hunt,
As I collected multi-colored plastic eggs filled with goodies.
I miss watching my Mimi plant and garden,
With worn out dirt covered gloves and a green apron.
I miss feeling the heat from the blazing sun up above,
Watching the sweat drip off me as I take a sip of a cool beverage.
I miss seeing children flock to our local ice-cream truck,
Down by the bay.
Sprinting barefoot on burning hot sand,
And then standing on asphalt.
I miss my mom complaining about trucks parking on the sand,
As she slathered 50 SPF sunscreen on me.
I miss watching the leaves flutter onto the ground.
Feeling the chilly winds encompassing me as I walk to my bus stop.
I miss the smell of cinnamon, pumpkin, and apple,
In my local town,
As stores begin to close early since the summer season is over.
I miss the family thanksgiving dinners,
And the noise of the T.V. blasting NFL football all Sunday afternoon.
I miss hearing my dad shout in glee as the Jets score a touchdown,
and my mom groan since she’ll root for any other team.
I miss feeling the icy burn of staying out too late in the cold.
As I watch snowflakes swirl around me, no two alike.
I miss drinking hot cocoa specially made for me,
A dollop of whipped cream, a handful of marshmallows,
And an entire cup of love.
I miss the extravagant Christmas Eve parties,
Filled with delicious food and home baked cookies.
I miss seeing my Poppy dressed up as Santa Claus,
White beard, pot belly, and filled with Christmas joy.
Most importantly,
I miss the feeling of home,
And all the mundane activities I once took for granted.
I’m left here to reminiscence,
What the past used to be,
And what the future could become.
I often wonder why the world feels like it’s spinning.
Why I find myself glued to the bathroom mirror,
Inspecting every insecurity that encompasses my very body.
I’m left to overanalyze and stare in quiet despair,
As I question why the mere thought of looking at myself makes me feel ill.
I often wonder why I criticize every body part of mine.
Why I find myself with droopy bloodshot eyes,
In a bathroom that feels suffocating to be in.
I’m left to hold my breath and count,
As seconds turn into minutes, and minutes turn into hours.
I often wonder why I find myself to be such a disgrace.
Why I find myself reluctant to look in the mirror,
As if the monster that stares back will define me.
Won’t it?
I often wonder why the world has it out for me.
Why I find myself to be so God damn repulsive.
As my yellow stained teeth feel rotten inside out,
And I’m left to question why brushing my teeth,
Feels like running a marathon.
I often wonder how kids could be so mean.
How their words could feel like razorblades,
Being dragged across my bumpy skin.
Their spit like citrus-cyanide and grainy salt,
Squeezed and rubbed into my fresh open wounds.
I often wonder why I was never able to obtain the courage.
But as I’ve grown older, the smoke around the mirror has cleared.
As I force myself to look,
Staring at the body I was taught to hate,
It’s no mystery why I find myself tear-stained.
I’ve heard that a person is supposed to have an intuition.
A sense of knowing,
A gut feeling in their stomach,
That warns them that something bad will happen.
Sometimes I wonder why I didn’t know.
How I could be so blind and naïve,
And not see the car driving straight at me with their headlights.
But to me it was just another Wednesday.
I remember walking into the house that day after work,
Oblivious to what scene awaited me.
I remember calling out to you, shouting that I was home.
But there was no response.
I remember sprinting upstairs with my mom,
and seeing the glow of the yellow bathroom light behind the door.
But it was locked.
I remember calling 9-1-1 begging them to come quickly,
as my mother used a screwdriver to open the door.
But it was supposed to be another Wednesday.
It was only a matter of time, before sirens could be heard off in the distance.
Flashing red and blue lights plagued my vision,
As I watched paramedics rush into our home.
I remember feeling giddy and nervous,
My body was shaking, and my mind refused to believe what was happening.
I remember the measly 12-minute drive to our local emergency room,
Felt so painstakingly long.
It was still just a Wednesday.
I remember sitting in a room encased in white walls,
on a green cushioned bench.
Surrounded by family and loved ones,
And a glimmer of hope encompassed me.
I remember a middle-aged man, walking through swinging double doors,
Walking with such confidence and authority until he stopped and stared at us.
He paused, cleared his throat, and plainly said,
“I’m sorry for your loss”.
It was no longer just another Wednesday.
It was only a matter of time, before my world fell apart.
I screamed and wailed,
Wondering how this is fair and why this happened to me.
Wondering why my glimmer of hope was squashed,
By white sneakers on brown carpet floors.
And why my Wednesday was flipped upside down.
I remember seeing you for the first time.
Hooked up to tubes and machinery,
With no heartbeat or pulse.
I remember feeling bile rise up within my throat,
Making me violently ill.
I remember crying so hard that I gave myself a headache,
As I stared at your lifeless body.
I often envy other people now,
Because I no longer get to live just another Wednesday.
I act all big and strong,
And I stay up all night long.
My emotions are grand,
And I like to act as if I'm the king of the land.
As I refuse to go to bed,
Just because my mother said.
So I will prance around,
Acting like I'm world-renowned.
I'm unable to balance my emotions
So I've instead decided to part the oceans.
Although I might throw fits,
My intense emotions are quite a hit.
I range from joy to frustration,
In order to show my dedication.
I would argue that it's quite an art,
Using my powers to outsmart.
So I refuse to fold my hand,
As my poker face reinforces that I'm the king of the land.
There is a willow tree that seeks to please,
Though its branches hang low, they're bare, yet free.
Within the canopy, the birds find peace,
Far from their nest, they soar in the light breeze.
The weeping willow stands both true and strong.
As leaves flutter down, the tree welcomes all.
It bends and sways with purpose, like a song,
As it guides its creatures through the nightfall.
It watches over all with careful eyes,
Ensuring your safety beneath the skies.
With gentle grace, the branches sway and sigh,
A rising beacon, so gracious and wise.
So, when all else seems lost, please do not fret,
The weeping willow's strength will guide you yet.
