Seven Heart Shaped Lockets

   Every year since her 20th birthday, Shelly's grandma had given her a heart shaped locket. Said that's how many true loves one can have in a lifetime. Said that seven is the amount of times you can forgive a man before you leave him. Her grandma was 91 when she died. She said her age had love luck mixed with the number 13 superstition and she loved that. The day that she died was the day she gave Shelly her last locket. She was a wise woman and knew her time was up. When Shelly was called to her bed, she placed her hand upon her grandma's cheek and looked into her eyes. Tears rolled down her grandma's cheeks, reminding Shelly of dew on a maple leaf.
   "My dearest granddaughter. It is so close to your birthday and I wanted with all my heart to be there, but I fear I don't have enough strength to last. So I am going to give you your present early.
   She pulled out the last heart shaped locket, this one slightly bigger then the rest.
   "This one was always my favorite. I met your grandfather the year I was given that. It was magical."
   Shelly nodded and her grandma continued on.
   "As you know this is the last locket I will ever give you. You must find your true love and nothing less with it and when you are old and your children have children, you must give these to the first born girl on her 20th birthday. You must tell her the same things I am telling you now, then she too will live a wonderful life. Do you promise me Shelly?"
   "I promise you, Grandma."

Not About the Bird

A hummingbird stared,
it's beady eyes,
it's controversial hunger.
Was it worth the pain?.
But did it ever stop to think
about its pain?
My pain.
My life.
Passers by,
barely a glance.
Berries picked,
barely a thank you.
My body quivering.
Flakes falling.
Empty.

Abandonment,
Each to it's own degree.
Encounters,
Each receding across the board.
Loneliness,
Each pull leading to withdrawal,
Mind,
Each raped through desire.

Freedom

Freedom,
To roam the house with no one in it.
Freedom,
To be as lazy or determinded as you wish.
Freedom,
To sing at the top of your voice.
Freedom,
To talk to yourself without seeming crazy.
Freedom,
To wake uo at 3am just for the sake of it.
Freedom,
To miss the ones that have gone.

Friendship

A new frienship today,
Eight years of seperation.
But interests are common.
Her mouth moves often,
My ears strain to hear all.
Her curious nature astoundes me.

Perfect Life

A perfect life is no life at all.
It's condescending,
Humiliating.
And you feel no pain.
How does one connect if they only feel happiness?
There is no way they can.
This was just walked by,
He looked slightly depressed.
How will you comfort him,
If you don't know what it's like?

Round-a-bout

I came to a point today where I had to do it for myself. Not because I was told to, or because I needed to, but because I had to. When I sat it was in a growth of bushes, smack dab on the muddy earth, branch supporting my back. I had no sense of time, I could be here for minutes or hours, but truthfully I didn't care. This could be the perfect place to people watch, if there were more people. But I'm glad there's not. Every person I see brings me out of my thoughts, out of why I'm here.And the whole time I have a sense of a homeless man coming to stab me because this is where he stowed his bag. My head is thinking, but I need it to relax. I'm in the middle of a round-a-bout. Literally. Does it mean something that i chose this very place? I don't know. But I do know that its a one way street, and I'm stuck in the middle of it. As soon as i leave I'm back on it until i visit this resting place again. Its like a safe haven.