Under The Knife

Fear’s shadow lingers in the crack below the door

I keep that door locked

Even though sometimes it swings wide open

I pace by it from time to time

But I don’t even touch the handle

I hate to twiddle my thumbs

While I think up the worst case scenario

I don’t even like to talk about it

But maybe if I share

You’ll see it too

and then

In front of our eyes

The door will disappear

-Saschia

Fear is healthy and normal but it’s not meant to control your entire life.

It Was Good

First thing today, is to figure out how he will love her. He loves her, that isn’t the question. But how would he show her? Yesterday, it was with a small note, I love you handwritten on it that hid underneath her tea cup. A teacup he picked out for her and filled with black tea he steeped the way she likes it. But, today was a new day and another chance to figure out how to love her. He walked to the kitchen and leaned against the counter to think. He looked around at the bills scattered in front of the Keurig and the pile of discarded recyclables by the trash. He takes a deep breath and fear overwhelms his thoughts. That feeling of not being good enough weighs him down. But she needs his love and so he pushes through it. I’ll find something in the living room. Toys surround the perimeter of the room. The plastic, colorful, and imaginative toys lighten his mood. But, his fears whisper the word tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow it will be easier he agrees. And sits in the rocking chair his wife nurses in. It’s an awkward chair, not his first choice, but it was for her. There’s no use in waiting a voice from inside says. He reaches into his pocket for a small notebook he carries around with him at work and goes to his disheveled desk for a pen hidden by months worth of mail to be organized. He walks back to sit in the awkward chair and taps his chin. Eyes shut tight, he writes I love you because you exist and I love that. Those words are embarrassing to him, but he knows she needs to hear it. So he tears the paper from his small notebook and stands up to leave it on her seat. He walks away and turns to look at the note. I should rewrite it. He takes a step. No, no she will like it. It’s good enough.  

I Crave

I crave instant gratification and

the lure of feel good meetings

with hollow words.

I want those things too

And sometimes I do indulge.

But it all leads to an empty that aches.

You know,

those scratches you can’t itch

And even though I know this,

I still have to remind myself

those things are empty

and that I’m better off home

creating something of substance

 

-Saschia