Posted in Pictures

I’m Beautiful…

I’m Beautiful

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Posted in Jeanne Marie

The Wedding Heels

I’m trying to de-clutter my life and unravel my mind.
Yesterday, I threw my thirty-five-year-old, size five wedding heels in the trash. I tried on a lot of shoes before I found the perfect heels. They were important. My future mother-in-law bought them for me. She wasn’t impressed by her son marrying a woman with three kids, so they were a peace-offering.
The heels have stuck around. They made the cut every time I packed. They have been with us to fifteen houses and a dozen apartments.
I had hoped to wear them again, maybe on an anniversary, but that’s not going to happen.
My feet are no longer small and petite, and my husband and I have separated.
I looked at the shoes laying there in the trash, taunting me, reminding me of my wedding day, and I pushed them in deeper. I instantly panicked, but I took deep breaths and I walked away.
Later, I carried the bag outside to the trash can.
Today, I was out front tearing open the trash bags. Coffee grounds, dog’s pee papers, egg shells and dirty paper plates, I found.
No shoes.
I gave up easy, compared to my norm.
I’m not a quitter. I held on to those heels for thirty-five years.
I stopped because I knew it was hopeless.
I could save the heels. But I can’t save us.
I’m strong and I’m weak. I’m resisting the urge to go back out there now.
I just want the trash truck to come and take the heels away before I give in to my compulsion to bring them back into the house.
If I can leave the heels in the trash, maybe I’ll make it through this after all.
P.S. The trash men came and the shoes have gone to their final resting place.

Posted in Pictures

Bird In A Cage

Women Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie

2013-08-16 11.41.39

Bird In The Cage

The bird in the cage can’t fly

She can’t spread her wings

and soar through the sky.

There’s always somebody

who lusts after her beauty

someone who captures

her bright feathered booty.

With a few dirty pennies

and cruel lies she is bought.

She does not dream

never free, she is caught.

She doesn’t live

she just grows older.

Cripple winged bird

crying on your shoulder.

The bird in the cage can’t fly

she’s bound her own wings

but if he puckers his lips

to make a kiss, she will sing.

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