“The Last Dance”


what is normal

what is normal

she sought her own
way away
and in the club
she saw

who she wasn’t
but who she needed
to be

that first shift
came with endless
a vicious circle
never meant to be

every hello
came with a compliment
every tip
came with a touch

something needed
something wanted
something more

a vicious circle
never meant to be

day after day
shift after shift
drink after drink

who was God

who was God

the darkest road
without an end
but just maybe there was
maybe there was

one by one
things removed
dancing stopped
drugs ran out
and step by step
led to recovery

just me with Him
to find me

Other People’s Memories

The problem with marrying someone from your past is that that someone “knows” your past, sometimes better than you do. Anyway, last night was a rough night.

It started out well because Scott and I practiced talking and did so for about two hours. If the word “practice” throws you off, it’s because for the last six months, we’ve, probably, barely talked two hours TOTAL, which makes for a very long six months, especially when you count the days, but we seem to be on the healing side of it.

After our talk, we went to the store to pick up a couple things for the girls. They were at The Prelude, so we wanted to be back before they got home. On the way, our talking continued but didn’t go so well. Continue reading


[written 7/8/16]

sometimes in your present
you’re reminded of your past
and think back not believing
of who you “used” to be

that’s a very good place

reminded of who you were
and seeing who you’re not
by knowing who you are
as who you’re meant to be

it may sound confusing
in a poem
but in my heart
it makes perfect sense!

When Others Won’t Let Go

For me, it’s easy to let go of the past, but when someone dear to me “catches” it and throws it back at me, THAT’s the hard part and that’s when I crumble.

Well, this is one of those writing moments when I hope it’s private, meaning I hope no one I know face to face will ever read it, so it may seem strange for me to write it, but if I don’t let out what’s going on inside of me, I’m afraid I might drown in tears, so here’s to taking a risk. Continue reading