unsent letters

            
1.  
 
dear mommy,  
 
I always look back on the day  
you went away for good  
I was playing on the monkey bars  
and didn't see you slip away  
 
my sweet mommy who taught me to pray  
now I lay me down to sleep  
I turned and you were gone  
that night I curl up in the bed we share  
waiting for you
 
this wasn't the first time you left me alone
I thought you would come home
when the men with flashlights came to get me  
I wondered how would mommy find me?  
they took me to a place that didn't understand my wild nature  
scolding me with soap in my mouth for cussing  
 
you left me mommy and never came back  
I spent most of my life angry at you  
I never told you because you died  
before I could even grow up  
 
so many times I reached for the phone to call  
knowing you were locked in madness  
and wouldn't be home  
those damn voices  
wouldn't allow you to recognize your own little girl  
 
I was so hurt and lonely without you  
I never told you  
I love you and I forgive you  
you did the best you could  
 
dear mommy  
 
 
2.  
 
dear poet,  
 
you still haunt these hallowed halls  
but your voice is missing  
your silence echoes off the walls  
and leaves me cold  
 
the place was once on fire  
alive with passion  
with the poetic arguments that would ensue  
you a real bloke with gravel in his belly  
would dive on in with great spirit  
 
I look for you every day  
and sit in your stoic quiet  
feeling safer just knowing you're here  
a man with vision and intelligence  
quick with debate  
and a stand-up guy where it counts  
 
you were the very first to tell me  
I wasn't really giving it my all  
that I needed to care about my readers  
I got angry with you for your honesty  
now I sorely miss it  
I found out that kind of truth isn't given every day  
it's a thing of great value  
 
I've started messages to you many times  
but really you don't want to hear from me  
I don't know if you still read me  
if you do, I know lately I'm disappointing you  
I'm disappointing me  
 
I just wanted to you to know you matter to me  
you're one of the reasons I still come here  
so I can sit silently in your presence  
and just feel safe  
 
 
3.  
 
dear friend,  
      
you say I phone it in sometimes  
in regards to my writing  
you're right I do  
    
I do it so you'll know I'm alive  
so I'll know I'm alive  
to keep me from taking those pills  
the yellow ones that make me sleep  
the ones that would be so easy to take  
I would doze off one night  
and awaken in a better place  
they look so much like a door    
I'm tempted to walk through and not look back  
    
I phone it in because my real feelings scare me  
so I skim the surface of what's there  
    
I look to you because you are fearless  
you know how you feel and you let us all know  
no pussyfooting about it  
    
I call you because without your kick in the ass  
I would lie down and let go  
giving in to what is easiest  
quitting  
    
so I'm not going to phone it in today  
I'm going to tell you straight    
why I run so fast  
I'm running from myself  
in each poem, I write  
as fast as I can from the death that is calling  
it has my number and it taunts me  
    
in this letter, I'm screaming  
I will go when I'm fucking ready  
of natural causes