Apologies in Advance

Apologies in Advance

A Poem by Brigid Cooley

There is a part of me that I know is shutting down right now;

Even though everything is wonderful and you make me smile and feel content.

A part of me is saying that I should run fast and far away from this shot at happiness.

I want you to know that I'm trying not to.

It's just a hard process; learning to trust again.

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After

After

A Poem by Brigid Cooley

When I cry, my eyes get puffy and my lips turn red.

I wouldn't have expected you to know that.

You've never seen me cry.

That's because I only ever do it when you're far away.

In theatre, being punctual is imperative to success.

If you're not early, you're late, and if you're late, you miss your cues.

Well, if all the world's a stage, you arrived 13 years after your call time.

Or maybe I was a decade early.

I hope you're scribbling in your notebook right now.

Or maybe you're typing away at your phone screen,

Looking for the right rhythm for a stanza and for words that rhyme with me.

Someone told me once that to write is to heal.

It happens slowly, with first drafts and scratched out lines, but eventually, you heal none the less.

So that's what I'm doing.

Or at least, I'm trying to.

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This Is Why We Couldn't Work

This Is Why We Couldn't Work

A Poem by Brigid Cooley

I caved and texted you today;

Just to make sure that you were okay.

You responded with one word sentences only.

Somehow, that was worse than not knowing.

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Perspective

Perspective

A Poem by Brigid Cooley

The second star to the right can be any star you choose.

That's why J. M. Barrie worded it that way;

So that you could learn to appreciate your own perspective.

On nights like these, I find myself wondering how many different stars have been my Neverland.

When I was little, I would leave my bedroom windows unlocked so that the boy who lived forever wouldn't have to waste his time trying to pick the locks.

Sounds unsafe.

But, sometimes faith is synonymous with taking risks.

So many people have told me that I am too old for fairytales.

To them, adulthood means forgetting your dreams as soon as you have them.

I'm devastated at the idea that they've given up on their own.

You know, if you really think about it, the Lost Boys weren't all that lost.

Displaced, maybe, but aren't we all?

I suppose it all depends on your perspective.

Get it now?

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Getting Better

Getting Better

A Poem by Brigid Cooley

My arms are a lot bigger than they used to be.

I only cringed a little bit as I wrote the previous sentence.

Full disclosure: sometimes, I scroll through my old Facebook profile pictures and wonder if other people see the subtle differences between then and now like I do.

My waist is a few inches bigger than it used to be.

The veins in my neck are less prominent.

My jawbone looks a little bit softer now.

You can't count all of my ribs anymore.

To me, all of those things are not-so-tiny victories.

It pains me to think that others see them as setbacks. 

Or that they don't see them at all.

I ate two whole pieces of pizza while I was out in public the other day.

I didn't try to hide it, and I stood tall when I went back for seconds.

No one said a thing, but my mom smiled proudly at me.

Look at how far I've come.

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Saturday Evening

Saturday Evening

A Poem by Brigid Cooley

Silly boy, don't you realize that you are gasoline and I am a fire that is in need of more fuel?

Together, we burn bright. 

That's true.

But if no one is there to supervise,

we could reduce entire forests to ash with our mistakes.

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Heartache and Paint Stains

Heartache and Paint Stains

A Poem by Brigid Cooley

You know what I hate about this crummy town?

It is stained all over with the colors of others.

It's like a canvas after someone knocked over the paint bin.

Once, a blank slate; now, a masterpiece. Or a tragedy. Sometimes both.

There are some things that you can't get stains out of, no matter how hard you try.

Sidewalks

Jungle gyms

coffee shops

picnic tables

libraries

lips

That's just to name a few.

No matter what you try, you can't bleach fingerprints out of them.

You can throw away soiled clothing, but memories are a little harder to get rid of.

My friends say that time will bring me clarity.

I don't need that.

What I need is space that is free of hand-me-down mistakes, so that I can make some new ones.

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