Extinguish


I tried to say goodbye without the splinters,

Without the tearing.

I tried to explain.

But you would not accept my leaving the game.

 

I said I was playing for keeps,

Or not playing at all.

I tried to be fair.

But you just called me yours and offered none of yourself in return.

 

Now, all there is to do, is slip quietly away,

Like one season fading into another,

A barely noticeable shift.

 

Now, all I can do is smother myself in shadow,

 

And hope you forget this fire.

 

 

Chelsey Whitlow

Sustained


I am sustained …

by Autumn rain,

by laughter and daydreams,

by red lip stick and plaid blankets,

by strong coffee and good books,

by words bled onto page after page after page,

by notes and lyrics that slice and stir,

by scarves wrapped round like comforting armor,

by soul-searing conversation still churning long after midnight,

by “I love your guts, Aunt Chels” and “Goodbye, Darling”

by dark chocolate and red wine and Irish whiskey,

by the stories that have long since become scars,

by sunrises and the smell of winter coming,

by Christmas lights and Birthday candles,

by moonlight drenching the barren places ,

by the Love that seeps in anyway,

by the tenacity and hope woven in so “fearfully and wonderfully” from my very beginning,

by those given to walk beside me,

by grace and mercy,

by every moment when I chose to stand back up again,

by the relentless Spirit residing within these fragile ribs.

Chelsey Whitlow 

Never 


Would it have been better to never know you?

To never hear you say …. Mine?

To never bear these tears and rips?

To never wake from those dreams with fists clenching the after shreds?

To never feel your absence to the very marrow?

To never know if my foolish fall would leave me broken always?

To never wear the stitches that would become your scar?

To never have learned, that my worth, should never have been yours to value?

To never carry this lonely lesson within my ribs?

 

These are the questions you left me… the story left in between.

 

Aww, but that story… her other story… the kinder one… was never meant to be the one to bleed.

 

Chelsey Whitlow