My poem titled “Everything’s Alright”

Sometimes I Sit by Myself…

My poem titled “Waves Break on Their Own”

A lost child

This idea came to in a dream so I just sat down for ten minutes and this poured out. I’m really excited to explore this.

-Turner

When I was fifteen, I had to make a choice. A big choice, a life changing one. Not just for me, but for the life of the little one I had grown for the last nine months.
“Are you sure this is what you want to do, Josie?” My mother asked, gripping my hand so tight it lost feeling. I know she wanted me to keep the baby, to raise it. But, I wasn’t ready. I was still a child myself, I couldn’t give this child what it deserved. A family, support and stability. I could see the tears starting to build in my mother’s blue eyes. Her lip trembled and her breathing had picked up. I didn’t want to break my mother’s heart as well, but I’d already made up my mind. It took me that moment, with only a week left til my due date, to get to this office.
I looked up to Mrs. Talbot’s soft eyes, she had been my rock through all of this, not pressuring me. Always being understanding. She was the director of the adoption agency I decided to go with. She found the best family to take my baby, to give it the things I wasn’t able to. Marcus, the baby’s father, was out of the picture. He was older than me, and the moment he found out how old I really was and what had happened, he split. Never to be heard from again. I had grown up without a father as well and I would never wish that on my baby. I rested my hand on my large belly, feeling the dips and rolls as the little one fought for room inside my under developed body.
“It’s alright, Josie. This is all up to you, everything is in your hands.” I know Mrs. Talbot was trying to be supportive, but that comment cut me to the quick. I picked up the blue pen that was resting in front of me. I gripped it so hard it nearly shot across the room. The moment I brought the tip down on the line that would officially release me of my baby, my mother broke down. Her sobs wracking her body.
“I’m sorry, I can’t…I just…” With that, she took off, out of the room to who knows where. I wanted to comfort her, she had been there for me my whole life, with nothing but love. But this wasn’t something I could help her through. I was barely holding myself together.
I looked up one more time to the kind, older woman in front of me. She gave me a reassuring smile. And with that, I signed my name.
I gave up my baby.
And…every day for the last nine years, I’ve cried for the life I never got to hold. To know. I never even found out if I had a boy or a girl. The adoption was closed. The moment I pushed the tiny body out of my own, a nurse swaddled it and took it out of the room, shutting the door behind her. That was the first night the dreams came.
They haven’t left.
That’s why today, I’m at Mrs.Talbot’s office. Desperation pulled me here. I need answers. I need to know my baby is safe, is taken care of. I want to know if I gave birth to a little boy with my blue eyes or a little girl with my dark blonde hair. I won’t be able to sleep for another ten years if I don’t.
With that thought, I pull open the large door with Miracle Adoption Agency printed on the glass.

My poem titled “You Said…”

You said you’d give the moon to me
But I stand in an empty house
Between four walls
You promised unending compassion
But I whisper my fears to my own ears
Because there’s no one around to hear
You said love never dies
But something died
As I watched you out on the town with her
You said you’d give the moon to me
But in the end
You just left me with a whole lot of empty space
 
-Collins

A tree or a bird?

A tree grows a root, deep and strong,
It carries water and nutrients from the soil,
To the leaves, so they can soak up the sun,
Allowing this ancient giant to thrive forever.
I wish I was like a tree, rooted to a home,
Someone with the will to stay,
A story held within my core, with the wisdom of something so old,
But I am not.
I am more like a bird, flying high,
A creature with the insatiable desire to leave and explore warmer places,
Only to come back, time and time again,
Never staying but also never leaving.
So I am a bird, but I make my home in the tree.
Can I be both?

-Turner

My poem titled “Fade”

I stand with one foot over the edge
And the other in a grave
One hand clasped in yours
And the other tries to misbehave
My eyes are skywards
But my heart is fearful
Dare I try to dream again?
My shattered ambitions are plentiful
The clouds rolls over your face
And my decision is made
This tug-o-war has to end
I have to let myself fade
 
-Collins
 

My poem titled “White Noise”

My five line poem titled “Hurt Me”

My poem titled “Plastic Dream Destruction”

They tell us times are tough
And we question how we got here
We make choices and shake ourselves down
Trying to understand what the hell they’re talking about
We try to tell them all the heartache is self-inflicted
That life can’t possibly be that cruel on its own
We create the illusion of destruction
We destroy ourselves
In the pursuit of some plastic dream
We see others break and bleed and call it winning
The wiser strap packs to their backs and hit the trails
Flushing consumerism and media from their systems
We ask how we got here again
And they place pills in our hands and tell us to get in line
Join in with everybody else
Because once the eyes start straying
The real destruction begins
 
-Collins