broken wings

but as I bask in the silence. The ears keep what I never spoke, and I write to ease the pain inside.

as I shame myself for our loss 

I look to the western horizon.

And

the pain resides

So as the train roars, I sip my tea in silence.

written on the wall was, "call this number, if lost". So I read it repeating, muttering "lost, lost, lost."

I stole a book once, and I got the whip. Returned the book and apologetically, and said I was sorry.

Between this and that, I thank God every day, for with that; there is no walking out of hell laughing, and all of the way making a day of the night and telling the truth from a lie. Meeting no justice, as to win and lose in the efforts, a battle unrecognized.

I begin every piece by ending the justifications of (love life loss and death.) 

just to find myself questioning the words written on the wall. 

LAST STOP! TEARDROP LANE: 

"oh" I said, that's me. 

Some things are handed to us and some are stolen.

I stole once, got the whip. 

One hundred times I wrote "I will never steal another book again", hitting 99 sentences, I really got a kick to the stomach. 

See the penalty is trivial.

Walking out of hell with a smile, boy I must be mad.

no, no. Not me, I am fine. I will be fine.

Just another episode for the papers. As I regain my confidence to perspire, I retain my adolescent yearning to be clever.

surely not me, not now.

 

But before we break, remind me just why I find myself so sworn and tireless. 

because the ending of this story is just the beginning of the turnabout. As I sip my tea, I trace my hands back against my neck and sweating like a horse in heat I remind myself to be good.

I shake off the morning like usual.

I get a nerve to ask for help and then turn to my side lifting my face from the glum day ahead I refrain interest. 

Dead end, last stop. I get off the train and sitting patiently for me was a man with the answers to all my problems. 

"Hello," I said. "hey," he spoke.

if I had a dollar every time I lost, today would win a cup of shallowness and a brief graceless dream, of broken haste. In an instance of grit I lose myself in between.

So, as I said, with ease. Time will work its way to the top and I will shrug and walk-away and suddenly it will all make sense, because from this to that I am defenseless; utterly I am with a head of struggles and I with such weak spirit, I find my way to the man who awaits me.

as I walk closer, he grins bringing his arms above his paper and giving me more than that-he said, "Are you Mary"? 

"Yes" I said, we have details on your spouses death. Oh good, another train wreck in the making.

Here is the deed to your husbands safe, and as I look up the sky, it looked a bit crazed with elegance so I said "sure-sure, briefly shrieking I mutter "this is a funny story, actually"... "and if you have the time I would like to-", he cut me off saying jokingly, "yeah funny..."

With the grace of a love affair this was a stallion of pity, funny as it may seem. 

I didn't love myself enough to finish the story. He hands me a payment fine printed in fresh ink. Dear Mrs. Mary Elde, please refrain from tears for the pain is with us all now.

 I wonder why I was here, for a second I realize this situation is of better needs and I resign the list of things to say so I thank the man and head to the country market perspiring with a loud reality reprieve.

As I look to the deed I laugh-and a good laugh too, he never would have noticed but I was spit shy of crazy and when it counts I never tell a lie.

-"goodbye my love". 

I ignite the deed with my lucky strike and garbage the remains. 

Free of guilt I remain quiet.

here's to new beginnings! 

I always was a funny girl. 

Kissing the most handsome guy in the room wouldn't suffice this angst. Winning the potter 8 ball with 100,000$ grand will not do me justice.

just one last wink of teething greatness. 

I am a widow, not a comedian. 

 

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Dear Cheyenne. You are a great storyteller. You brought the reader in, and you held him to the last word. I loved the situation and the character. You made the words dance to the strong ending. Thank you for sharing the outstanding tale.
Coyote

[Betty Hermelee]

A story of pain from wrongdoings. About judgements, guilt, truth and lies and pity....the will to rid them and move on to a better place than Hell...and new beginnings....
very well written. Best, B

[JE Falcon]

Two of my favorite lines, --- "for with that; there is no walking out of hell laughing,' and --- "he never would have noticed but I was spit shy of crazy". --- This was hopscotch of visions and a rollercoaster of ideas, a great read, thanks!