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The truth escapes me
Sifting down through
The cracks in the floor boards
To live beneath our home.
The walls absorb reality
Which never was quite clear
Facts taunt and tease
Sneak in when I’m alone.
Yesterday’s unwashed dishes
Fester in the sink
Mold grows in the cellar
Moving boxes still unpacked.
The truth lies under the house
It awakens me at night
It waits for me in my dreams
When I’m vulnerable to attack.
Behind the bathroom mirror
Demons guard the walls
The truth is not what it seems
Deceit covers reality like paint.
by Jeanne Marie
Sometimes I wish, I think, I could have lived my life
without the soul stretching exercise.
I could have been a dandelion floating on the wind
at the whim of every breeze.
I would have been happy blowing across the open fields
a dandelion puff scattered every which way
sacrificed for a wish by a child with a grin and scuffed knees.
No heart to be broken, no regrets to sleep on at night
just a hundred puffs floating this way and that.
Maybe a flower opening my petals for just one day
drifting on a whim as the wind carried me away.
I could have been a feather fallen from an angel’s wing
floating past your window
as under the covers you snuggled
not seeing me or any thing.
I would have sprinkled blessing dust
across your windowsill
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