Trashbag Confessions

Bees buzzing hidden amongst the rafters,
dark shed crying for the cleaning,
so soon a new life to embark;
one must clean the halls of our today,
to find the rooms of tomorrow.

Hands digging through
moldy soil of my life journey.

Cards written to a girl filled with hope,
preaching to a rebellious young woman,
encouraging a lost soul,
congratulations on another year gone.
All people I can no longer envision.

I float in an amnesiac time warp into the past.

Grade school report cards,
folded and signed,
"Denise is enthusiastic,
but needs to better her use of time."
Funny, how some truths
remain the same.

Aching fingers trace a name,
my brother's struggles
in reading, writing and arithmetic;
slapping my face with the knowledge
he is nothing but ashes
and a voice that I can no longer hear.

Letters and journals grasping at
wintered dreams in a tropical land.

Old boyfriends smile from photos
that tell the tale of a girl yet to be kissed.
Others with arms wrapped around
the woman kissed too many times.
Immune to all emotions;
no comfort in those possessive arms
or another's love lost puppy dog eyes.

Who owned my soul in that moment?

Funny how you box away portions of your life
You continue to live and learn;
as the dust bunnies dance with the person
you used to be.

Left in a chaotic clutter
that resembles the path of my youth.
Sadness sits with the girl
lost along the way.
Contentment found in knowing
the woman who holds her youth
gently in yellow paper dreams.

I rummage through the bones
left for me to pick.
Tax papers, receipts, love letters
riddled with post card moments.
I travel the path to find
treasures of yesterday tossed
in a plastic contractors black bag.

Heavy with weight of a paper trailed life,
pieces of Denise now wait for Tuesday,
when ignorant garbage men
dispose of the forgotten tears of
this life.