I Remember

I remember trying,
spending time in the mirror and inspecting my walk,
striding towards then away,
pulling in my stomach,
never admitting to lip hair removal.
Trying to learn eyeliner and to walk in new shoes.
I remember when it mattered
but I can’t remember the way it felt.
And now I’m full of avoiding eyes,
and mondays,
and silent screaming conversations in my head
with people who stare at me across tables
in meetings I don’t belong in,
and breakfast cereals that are healthy,
and dreams that end in tears.
I am made of spilled nail polish on satin,
and sweat stains,
and clothes that don’t fit right,
and lies that I can’t swallow,
and bad breath and never
getting the joke,
and wanting,
just once,
to have the words ready when I need them…

And I wish it was
and I wish it was
and I wish it was
but that monday feeling is where I live now.
I remember trying…
but I cant remember why.




About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

12 Responses to I Remember

  1. This is a wonderfully incisive poem, Jaye. You really capture the meaningless of life that so many women associate now with a time of the week, that’s also a time of life, a state of mind, and a box they can’t get out of.

  2. Reblogged this on Jane Dougherty Writes and commented:
    Something to reflect on this Monday morning.

  3. Lynn Love says:

    This is fantastic. It just sums up how life changes you, you change through life and how the time passes and your not sure how you’ve moved from one state to the other. Truly terrific

  4. Your words will ring true for many. I hope I am not one of them. Beautifully expressed. :o)

  5. annwjwhite says:

    Might I add that you do the poetic dance extremely well? I have those brain ricocheting days too. What a pleasure to find you.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s