You are the Sun and the Moon to me,
  The tallest tree,
   The stars and the sea,
    The highest mountain,
     The whitest beach,
      The deepest valley,
       The sweetest dream,
        The tastiest confection,
         The finest wine,
           My best friend.
So hot, you burn me, so airless and frigid, I freeze,
  So high, you’re beyond my grasp,
   Too far away to ever reach, so vast and deep, I’d drown if immersed,
     Impossible to surmount alone,
      There, blinded by the glare, dehydrated by the salty air, burnt by the brutal sun,
       Where I’m forever in the shadows,
        Which will forever be unreal,
         Which rots my teeth and shocks my blood,
          Which I can’t afford,
           Who turned their back.

I kept the book you gave me,
the one you never finished.
The corners are still creased
where you stopped -
a moment frozen in paper.

I tried to read past it once,
but the words were ghosts
of a story I didn’t know
how to end.

So it sits on my shelf,
not quite forgotten,
not quite forgiven,
like the memory of you.

Hello world
You may not recognize me
though now I finally recognize myself

I made a difficult choice
freedom over familiarity
I ran to a new beginning
Shedding all those who attempted to control
through lies and vitriol

I have found my voice
I will use my voice
to be a truth teller,
a mirror,
a fierce catalyst for wellness

I have found my voice,
so I sing out
with rebellious joy
Hello world
Hello

© 2025 SincerelyJoanWrites. All rights reserved.

I remember it, you
not so much. No. 10 staples,
unused, I’ve brought them.
The store is still there. You said,
regularly, you didn’t want
to sell stationery your whole life.
Pencils end up lost, pens run out,
like a lot of things. The inevitability
of it smacks you like a migraine, I got it.

Soon we became stapled, painlessly,
together. The mossy green jumper,
mine, you wore it. Your knitted-by-grandmother
scarf, sunflowers, I wore
sometimes. Routines we made
ourselves, the right shade of tea,
word puzzles before bed.
All falling into place, a quiet click,
seamless.

Then, restless. Fidgety. A classic
different directions situation. Thankfully,
amicable. Just as seamlessly, clicked
apart. Now here, the staples, leftover
silvered remnants. Still boxed. Use them?
I could, but couldn’t. What was reduced
to stationery. Runs out like a lot of things.
Inevitable, I guess, I got it.

the pink clouds move slow
slow like i was tricked by the years

gleaming over grass i walked
by feet
small in saturday's shoes

sharp patch grass and dirt that stuck to my back
replaced by the warmth of wood chips
familial love reflects off the set up sign
  swaying on the lawn

i feel its burn in my eyes

the ice cream man drives by
i guess the best flavor isn't in stock anymore

the sun keeps setting on my dreams to escape  
i already woke up from it all