This morning, yet after another night of relentless quarreling with my ex, probably about who didn't say goodbye first before hanging up the phone, I roll over, place my tired, bare feet on my cold floor, and start another morning...alone.

I slap cold water on my puffy eyes, brush my rocks with a cheap, Dollar Store toothpaste, and man up to trek up to the San Francisco Coffee house.

I mindfully avoid each crack on the sidewalk up to the intersection of Ponce and Moreland, and step in a militaristic fashion, left right left, left foot leading.  I switch up with right leading to the next intersection.  Mind games keep me from feeling pain.  Some call it OCD.  Maybe.  I've been doing this for 5 years.

I make it to the San Francisco, and stand in the lengthy line of women dressed in suits, and men with their edgy, stylish frames.  My hair is sideways and I haven't applied deodorant.  Another normal day for me, dressed in a sweatshirt and workout pants.  At least I managed to brush my teeth.

Sign reads: $5.00 minimum on debit/credit cards.

"Fuck."

Yes, I say it out loud, just as the cute, bubbly barista asks me, "what can I get for ya?"

I muster a smile and say, "I'll be back."

"Left, left, left, left left, left, left, left," I "mind chat" as I march to the ATM.

"Right, right, right, right, right, right, right, right, " back to the San Fran.

I open the door for an adorable, blond headed three year old, with his smiling, good looking father in tow.

"Slow down, son," he laughs.

I just stare at the pavement, and smooth the cowlick on the right side of my skull.

"Thanks," he smiles.

All I can utter is, "Yep."

It's finally time for some coffee that I literally walked a mile for.

I stare at the glass case full of pastries, and croissants.  God, how I would love just a nibble or two.  However, at 37, my metabolism is not what it was, and being a "so called actress," it's my job to look less than 130 lbs. on camera.  I weigh 136.  I have an audition this afternoon for a non paid gig.  Better not bloat up beforehand.

"They say that breaking up is haaaard to doooo-ooooooo..."  plays...loudly over the loudspeakers.

I roll my eyes and take a big sigh.  Behind me, the blonde three year old sways to the music and his dad snaps his fingers.

"Welcome back!" grins the barista who heard me say "fuck" earlier.

"Large coffee, please."

"Great!  That'll be $2.48!" she says with a smile.

A line begins to back up behind me as I pull out every dime and penny I can find in my shabby change purse.  The kid and his dad are still snapping and smiling.

"There.  Forty eight cents."

"Thank for your patronage!"  the barista says as her eyes twinkle.

"Thanks."

I sit down in a leather chair, and begin to write.  I wonder, "At what point did my life turn?  At what point did the tide turn for the girl who lifted the shades at 6 a.m. every morning to let the sunshine in?  Who is this woman who is now beat down and bitter?  And is there hope to snap my fingers, and dance again?"

I dunno....

I just dunno....

I smoked a cigar tonight.
I watched the smoke billow from my lips into light rays of a setting sun.
Shadows danced on the bare walls of my muted yellow room...my home for 959 days now...

I watched the orange light of the sun dance in my glass of merlot.
I sipped slowly, swallowing the pain of... well... there's no need to waltz with depression...so I savored my balm of Gilead.

My ear turned to the giggling of children outside my basement window.  My neighbor's kids 4, 6 and 8, danced with delight in the warmth of the spring twilight.

I'm almost 37.

I once had dreams of love. Dreams of family. Dreams of fame. Dreams of travel into foreign lands touching the faces of tribal men and women... dreams of riding a train through sunflower fields in Italy.

Those dreams have faded just like the ash from my cigar that now floats in this morning's coffee cup.

Hope.

Hope?

I don't know.

I have hope for heaven, and for hope of seeing God in all his glory.  But that's a day when I'll be dead.

My thoughts turn as I light another cigar...

The whisper of the wind blows into my window and tousles my hair.

"There's more...  "



michaelstille@gmail.com

Imagery of Betrayal

I fancied your grin, I adored your gentle fingertips on the nape of my neck.  Your sweet lips spoke purity, like fallen snow; a saint’s kiss, yet your black cobwebbed mind cleverly hid secrets.  In naivete’, I offered my soul, as an unconditional offering for your false affections.  Your despairing heart, wrapped in steel chains you created---only uttered a muffled beat. How I dreamed of unraveling your spirit from that cold, stone, windowless prison! I longed to cup your heart in the palm of my hand and mend the holes of hurt with healing Gilead kisses.  And in my attempt to break the chains, in this rescue, I entangled myself, immeshed in your tarantulan web.  You sucked the crimson flow from my aortic valve. You bled me to  a black desert, a dry and desolate dwelling with no stars to guide, no light , no warmth.  A cold, dismal abyss of sand and apathy. You siphoned my life blood for your sustenance and abandoned my soul to crinkle into a flesh mound with no skeleton. 

Just wishin....

Patchouli sky rescue me from the moldy damp pit!

Where crows screech, piercing my eardrums~

I long for doves flutter wings who tap feet on piano's ivory ebony keys~

Echoing melodies to my vacant heart.

My itching skin flakes flesh from where once a talon pierced~

Yet.... He radiates sunshine to the depths~

Massage my broken back~

I cry out, "What excrement is this, that I must dwell in? When my soul, spirit, and frame ache for nourishment?"

Vanilla and tangerine are my craving~

Cherry tree blossoms in orchards of vast land is the space that I need....

My eyes, nostrils, lips breathe in black dirt

But my mind and my heart envision turquoise blue clouds sprinkling baby's breath....

Down.... down upon my neck

Oh butterflies sing to my soul. ....

Christy's Poem

a fairy's escape

Crystalline fairy trapped in buzzing gnat infested chandelier

An itsy, delicate, jewel, flaps frantically to escape

Eyes oggle and peer at her beauty with no sense of her utter suffocation

The swarm flicka, flickas and deceives "gazers" as innocent fireflies

gazers in black tophats say, "surely fluttering fireflies are friends of shimmering fairies."

Truth unknown to tophat gazers who watch the light display

Inhaling gnats, she screams for incense

the bedazzled jeweling, an indigo fairy aches to spread her wings

1095 days of pain, she no longer senses icy gaze from crimson beady eyes who stare at her frame

her amethyst irises affix on a flickering stream of chandelier stars

her only hope to zoom to mars

long eyelashes brush sapphire cheekbones as ebony tears trickle down, down down

spiraling down, down, down, DOWN

flapping and fluttering cease

naked, ivory flesh, SHE CURLS in a spherical yin yang

in her mind she escapes to wonderland

"i'm a FURRY BLACK CAT curled on a sunset beach,

surrounded by violet tulips that never die,

salty, WARM, ocean breezes blow on waves crashing that never cease,

oh the wonders that never leave,

wonders that Never leave,

that never leave,

never leave,

leave.