cherishedvision82

[Music] takes us out of the actual and whispers to us dim secrets that startle our wonder as to who we are, and for what, whence, and whereto. ---Ralph Waldo Emerson       A mere hour before sunrise, I lie awake in my darkened room. Insomnia has captured me in her wicked grasp once again. The only light flickering in my line of blurred vision is the illumination from the television set. My eyes are just barely open as I try to fight the urge to stay awake. It's an urge I have to fight every single night and it's a battle I have been losing lately. I can hear music playing on the television. I would turn the television off, but my roommate fe

I'm the wanderer, the girl on the outskirts, destined to stick out but remain in the shadows; watching and living vicariously, I envy the world, theirs keeps on turning while mine has stopped cold; digging deep inside, I come up with nothing, my wounds are deep and the scars are indivisible; my eyes and my thoughts roam the eternal skyline, but they return empty-handed and I feel my soul gaping. What would it be like to be fulfilled for a day? How would it feel to be completely satisfied? Why can't I just live for this very moment just to say that tomorrow is just an adventure I'll deal with when it arrives? My occupied mind feels

In this one, you are cradled in my arms, an infant portrayal of the man you've grown to be; man at stature, child at heart; I took to my role as big sister quite well, almost claiming the title as mother along the way. In this one, I am holding a bottle to your mouth, while you hold your gaze on me; probably wondering how someone as small as I was could be big enough to love someone like you. In this one, I am eight years old, with barely a grasp on the nightmare below the surface; still I smile and act as if nothing is wrong, 'cause, holding you, everything is so right, even if for just that moment.

Two runners, open road, endless possibilities, both seeking something that seems to have faded into the oblivion. No sense of direction, no feelings of peace, never really knowing what we're looking for. Tonight, you're here, so am I, and together we're alone; lost in fear, drowning in anticipation, eyeing the door but bound to each other; maybe it would be okay to just spend the night. I'm unable, and you're afraid. Neither of us will fall in love; I think I can hitch to the post for a little while, we'll both be gone before the morning light. Two runners, open arms, synchronized heartbeats, exploration, observation; a mome

What's the difference in this time and last? What made you respond when last time you passed? Was it something about the words I said? Did it spark some kind of memory in your head? I never expected to see you again, at least not in an appointed invited meeting way. I figured I was in your past, and you moved on. You're still in love with that other girl and I'm still living in this other world, the world where you and I were meant to be. Years can pass and hearts can change, sins of the unforgiving kind can be erased, but I never figured you to be the merciful type. Just a year ago, you told a friend you never wanted to see me

Azaleas blooming, southern fried chicken cooking, great-grandfather on the porch, eating watermelon and spitting seeds on the monkey grass; six-year-old me running in circles, playing freeze tag with my next-door best friend; sunlight peering through the mountainous oak tree, barbie dolls and G.I. Joes scattered, abandoned for the backyard swing, identical to me with their muddy clothes and blackened bare feet. "I got you, I got you, now it's your turn!" "Oh wait, I can't, it's time to go home…" Fireflies caught, cupped within my tiny hands; I open them slightly to catch the illuminating golden glow; mosquitoes on a warpath, my skin

She pushed, I pushed harder. I was bigger, but she was stronger. She wounded me physically, but murdered me with words, brought tears to my eyes while piercing for blood, tied my hands down and expected me to flounder. Defending myself was not an option. "You're insane! You're out of control!" She was screaming at me and describing herself. Left alone at last, my tears flooded the darkness. She'd reappear and I'd try to brush and rush them away. "I'm such a horrible mother," was her apology. "You just make me so damn angry," was her excuse. She burst in tears and sought forgiveness in my rigid arms. Suddenly, she was playing my r

Sometimes one foot in front of the other isn't an easy job; you gotta do a moonwalk or two before you reach the top, then you slid, rise, and crumble upon arrival; yet every day you have to make the same steep climb. Four years of college, where has it gotten me? Volunteering for a position 'cause the paycheck is missing; bustin' my balls for a bitchy bumbling boss, learning quickly the benefits aren't worth the cost. Amidst the rectangular walls and square minds, florescent lighting above eyes that are blind, proper superficial etiquette and backs to talk behind, categorized filing cabinets in a place so disorganized, I've lost t

Brown strands, making yourselves apparent near my scalp, not wanting to go unnoticed even as I try to brush the rapidly escaping tint of auburn I've used to cover everything I used to be. Brown, you are my past and I'm trying to get as far away as possible. I will color over you, tuck you inside my hat, and brush over you just to keep you from the eyes of the ones who seek to break, crack, and unfold me. I won't let you tell them my secrets. I won't let you show them the depths of my vulnerability. I just couldn't bear for the curious to discover that I'm really just a plain average Jane brunette instead of the exciting redhead I