The story goes on

I was told my story was not over

That I just had to start a new sentence

I turned the page

And then another.

The nothingness

Scared me more than the words

“The end”.

You want me to create something

Of the nothing that I have left?

You want me to fill the book

With stories, laughter, tears, and words?

I can’t fathom how I start again.

Do I start with me?

With you?

With love?

With the end?

Or do I close my eyes

Take a deep breath

And see what the paper desires of the pen.



Hiding in plain sight

The demons lurk behind storm filled eyes

No one ever knows

The pain that’s taken hope

I wish I had no heart

No soul to fill with love

What has it ever given me

But tear stained eyes

And blood filled hands

Life beats you down

Nothing ever comes easy

Apathy or excess

No in between

Dear God in heaven

What is wrong with me?


Why cover me in kisses

When you could cover me in lies.

Why promise me tomorrow

When you know it’s not mine.

Why love me through the night

When the days are eclipsed

Why give me your sorrow

When you know I’ll be missed.

Why give me your laughter

When your tears are inside.

Why do I keep asking

When I know it’s goodbye.

Last love

Really wish I could remember who I wrote this about LOL.


The last time I said I love you

I never dreamed would be the last

The last time I held you

God, it went so fast

The last time I trusted

You threw it away

The last time I wanted

You didn’t stay

The last time I loved

Did it die with you?

The last time I was touched

By a hand that gave a damn

It wasn’t you.

The last trust I had

Was wasted on a lie

The last love I had

Was really goodbye


I scream, grab your arms and shake them, get right in your face, my eyes pleading with you to look at me…hear me…love me.  I rage at you, calling you awful names, grabbing your chin in my hand to make you look in my eyes…but you’re somewhere else.  You’re looking right through me into an abyss that makes a wormhole look full of light.  Your memories and your terrors have convinced you that you still live with them.  I slap your face, trying to get a reaction out of you and drag you back from yourself but you don’t even notice.  Tears streaming down my face, I back away from you, shaking my head at my disbelief, my loss, and the knowledge that I can’t save you.  I turn away from you and you still stare straight ahead, your moss colored eyes hazy with the pain of past wrongs and tragedies, a life that was filled with sorrow too soon, and death too often.


All this…happens in my head.  In the real world, as your eternity eyes look at the night, I say quietly to you, “hey, come back to me”.  I reach towards your arm, but you are uncomfortable with touch so I pull my hand back, never feeling the warmth of your skin…


You smile, and make a smartass comment…but I know that you’re still there…the abyss won’t let you get too far away….and I’m not enough anchor to hold you…and life slips you by…as you fight the demons that have long since gone….


And I fight the demons that still surround me…knowing that you’ll never love me…and that you will never see me for who I am.  I made an oath though, a promise to stay by your side and not abandon you as so many others have.  We sit and watch the moon bless us with the pale light of summer, and never dig deeper than calling a spade a spade. I may be the one to keep my oath but I may also breathe my last by it.  A tragedy of Shakespearean proportions, the loving of someone who will never love you back.  

Open letter to the media 

Dear Media,

In case it isn’t apparent after the election, you are no longer trusted.  The Constitution gives you so much freedom that you have forgotten what comes with freedom…responsibility.  You no longer represent all of the United States.  You no longer represent unbiased coverage of events.  Facts seem to surprise you occasionally.  We no longer respect you and what you say.  This is all encompassing.  This is not just the “liberal media” or “faux news”.  This is all of you.  You forgot that we, the people, are the ones who give you the right to print opinions without censorship from the government.  You seem to forget that we can censor you and that we have by turning you off and looking for our news elsewhere. You blame so many different reasons for the failings of your newspapers and TV shows but you never blame yourself.  The American people have to dig deep through masses of articles to try and find the truth of a story because you have buried it underneath pseudo news shows and reality tv.  You have created the divide amongst Americans in order to obtain ratings.  You have lost the sacredness of your job.  Half the time your spelling and grammar is deplorable.  

I’m writing this to demand you do your job.  I’m not claiming that other people feel the same as I do…because everyone has an opinion.  Something that you need to learn is that every opinion has the right to be heard not just the ones that will make you look better.  How many of you have lied about a news story or places you’ve been or things that you have seen?  How many of you leave your highrise apartments and elitist lifestyles to come to “fly over” America?  How many of you retain common sense and understand that what has made this country great is individuals?  Not Black Americans, not White Americans, not Christian Americans, not Gay Americans, but Americans.  Yes, sometimes we identify with a label but we are more than that label.  Please, come out among the real people in the world and not the ones who you think you know.  We might have something to teach you that is newsworthy.   


A white Christian college educated Libertarian hippie (Is that enough labels for you?)


“I don’t understand how this all happens. How we go through this. I mean, I knew her, and then she’s- There’s just a body, and I don’t understand why she just can’t get back in it and not be dead anymore. It’s stupid. It’s mortal and stupid. And-and Xander’s crying and not talking, and-and I was having fruit punch, and I thought, well, Joyce will never have any more fruit punch ever, and she’ll never have eggs, or yawn or brush her hair, not ever, and no one will explain to me why.”  Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Joss Whedon, The Body


Mary Lou,


I’ve sat down to write this a million times since I found out you were gone and always I stopped.  I couldn’t finish it for anything; I wasn’t ready to let go.  I still don’t feel like I’m ready to let go but you seem to think I need to get it done.  I can almost hear you telling me, “For f*** sake, Nic, get it over with and quit being sad.”  You know I was never very good at listening to people.  


Do I need to talk about all the fun times we had together?  How many times you picked me up off the ground after Brad pulled his shit and I was left to raise Megan without him?  Do I need to remember how I cried when you moved to Germany and that was the last time I actually saw you?  9 years.  9 freaking years.  I could have seen you when you guys were back in the Wood but I had another controlling husband who didn’t want me to drive down to you.  The guilt I feel that I didn’t tell him where to go and drive down anyway is horrible.  I know, I know, you would say that I need to get over that as well.


You were always in my corner.  It didn’t matter that it had been years since we saw each other and a while since we had spoken, I still knew that if I called you you would come running…just as I would for you.  


You were one of my best friends.  You would always tell me when I messed up but you would also tell me when I was right.  You were so full of life.  I miss you.  I love you.  I’ll work on letting you go…but I feel like I’m losing part of myself as I do it.