Poetry
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I’m so sick of seeing people cheer for human suffering. For pain. For death. Behind your little screens and keyboards, you sit in comfort, laughing and clapping as if someone else’s devastation is entertainment. Just what you voted for, right? Sigh. I’ve been an ER nurse for 16 years. I have held more hands than
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You know that feeling when the silence in your house is so loud it’s practically screaming at you? Yeah, that’s my life now. Kids grow up, life moves on, and somehow, here I am—staring at walls that were once full of noise, wondering how I got here. Fun times, right? It’s not like loneliness kicks
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It’s dark and quiet in the room. The lights are turned down low. Your family has left. It’s just me left. Just me, and you, and your quiet slow breaths. I pull a stool up beside your bed and wrap my hand around yours. I could leave. Your family has. Apparently at peace with what
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Perspective is only ever clear to one. Once handed out it tends to get smudged and sullied with every set of grimy hands it gets pushed through. Currently though, as we view everything though Canada’s smoke filled haze it all seems a little grimy, am I right? Tears drip silently down my face as I
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Lost love seems like the chronic human condition. As long as people have possessed the ability there have been stories written about love lost, love forgotten, and love achieved. It seems the penultimate life achievement. Love. Perhaps, that is why it is so difficult. It’s been on my mind heavily recently. Honestly, because I’ve recently
I Would Rather Be In Bed 