by Heather Rae

Once again here I am
have to wonder
where I've been
and if I had a nickel
for each time...
Time has never been
my friend.
A few bits of peeks
show the mirror
that it's been awhile
since the last,
yet still,
shadows run behind me
with tiny tapping feet,
the pitter patter
never leaves the
"then" quiet.
Round and round
catch me if you can,
want you to, you
have to,
see the walls, chairs, tables,
they all grow fat,
squeezing around me,
in me and me out,
there's no room
left to move, to breathe,
or just be.
life has become swollen,
red, hot, pulsating,
ready to own me.
it's rotten belly stench
traces up my spine,
"do it now, do it now"
someone begs,
see it looks back at you
and laughs,
I'll do it
and let the shiny
pieces fall,
fall everywhere
and anywhere,
it doesn't matter,
there'll always be
tiny pieces.
I follow them down
like Alice,
I walk the thin lines,
those familiar edges
the rip and tear
my soles
my mouth screams but not I,
I know better.
Better not look,
better not feel,
better not tell.
covering my ears
so I won't see
their faces.
I can get away fast, for now.
escape finds me
in the light above,
where I've been,
here I am,
once again.

by Heather Rae

it's time. in the waiting,
I trace the edges
of your very faded jeans
that have lost their blues,
"just getting broken in",
(isn't that everything you touch?)
i lose track, into pocket
nothing but lint,
yet it holds more worth,
than i dare defy ,
even just in my thoughts,
just ask the banker,
i had watched each
so purposefully laid
in it's place, waiting,
all too familiar with what's
on the other side of the door,
but a daughter can hope.
it's the same but different,
roles to play, lines to remember,
no understudy, the show must go on.
that's how it's played (and paid)
someone moves my hands,
my body, strangers some,
others repeat their knock,
it's hard to unsee
what should never be.
at times crushed, gasping for air,
other seem to memorize
ugly mustard curtains,,
slightly ajar, standing guard,
only one hand not played
a stake claimed, like property
before we could speak
once sweet nothings become
words with new meanings,
i hear the voice hating the wall,
begging the room, the floor,
everything to stop moving,
but nothing past those lips,
brief visits, some want to stay.
but must leave before morning cracks,
longing for the few stolen moments ,
practice makes perfect can hold off,
yet she don't ever get it so
he won't forget,
it will be waiting, until
its time.

by Heather Rae

sitting
on the edge
of my cliff,
yes i have my
very own spot,
even if
i hate the view,
it's been paid
in full, long ago
i see bare feet
hanging down,
swinging occasionally,
this is no place
for a child
I say , just not aloud.
Fingers tracing
stitching on
an ugly faded
gold spread,
won't be long now.
i hate the knocking,
like there's a choice
to answer, so I watch her,
who I guess
is me,
her words fall
like syrup from her lips
though mine tremble.
Deaf to those who
stifle cries , ignoring them
who feel trapped inside,
she gives a voice to whispers
that quickly grow fat,
feasting on teases
that will find
places to land.
I hear her breath
calling, always too soon.
Betrayal snatches her away
the baton must not drop,
bumped to the front
of the line
but he's had training
so it goes unnoticed,
for really it's more about
the game, not the player.
Sometimes she barely
utters hello and leaves
him holding the bag.
Anywhere but here
a wasted thought,
don't look I tell
the others, it's never in time.
Watching the headboard
know the wall with dents,
I wish he hadn't been lying,
that this was a bad dream,
but money keeps us awake,
hasty hands ripping his ears,
eyes begging to close
but that's not how it's played.
I try not to breathe
not feel,
as the disgusting
need hits the roof,
each of the words
squeezed out
of their mouths,
pushing and shoving,
then breaking through
as he's sure
he's drowning,
but at least
it retreats.
feeling each letter
the fading words say,
slower and slower
til at last
It's finally over.