Wanderlust & Pixie Dust

[theflyinghandini]

Jewels

Venomous and vengeful

Deceitful and dire

She lights the match

But then rages at the fire.

Envious lashes

Infused with disdain

She dispatches the dance

But then curses the rain.

Unhinged and unhealthy

Toxic and trite

She peddles darkness

Then declares “love & light”.

Reflections of disgust

Peer back from aging eyes

But she just keeps consuming

What she claims to despise.

Oblivious to the truth

That it’s her own love

She denies.

Sad 😔

Jaclyn Handerhan ©️ 2021

[theflyinghandini]

Minor Things

It’s the tiniest of teardrops

That’s rolling down my cheek

It’s the words you use to cut me

To the bone that lies beneath.

It’s the way I need to run to you

When things have blown apart,

And small gestures that I need from you

To light a path that’s dark.

It’s the things that I have told you twice,

That you haven’t heard at all,

It’s the interest you take in my life,

And my struggles, big and small.

It’s trust I haven’t gotten

Though I’ve wanted it so long,

It’s calendar days forgotten,

And a year that’s gone all wrong.

It’s support that’s unconditional,

And doesn’t come with strings,

It’s wanting more out of this life,

Than all these minor things.

Jaclyn Handerhan ©️

[theflyinghandini]

Apart

Fire escapes fantasy

We dance in dreams

Sketching memories

Across subconscious mind

Waking thought embedded

Deep in some dark crevice

Thoughts I can never

Fully recall

Yet

Never quite release.

Memories fade

Like the soft shorelines

Of some sandy beach

That you will gaze upon

Without me…

As seafoam and starlight

Remove my name

From your sweet lips

Without sound.

Jaclyn Handerhan©️

[theflyinghandini]

Golden

Sleepless lately

Thoughts surge

Tidal brain wave

Mystery…

Ocean sprays

Your kiss

Across states

Mountains…

With clouds so close

I might ride one

To the coast

Setting sun…

Sparkles like your hair

Pulled back from your face

On a rainy day

Memories…

Twinkling in your eyes.

Jaclyn Handerhan ©️

[tiredandlonelymuse]

My therapist once told me, “You are the guiltiest feeling person I’ve ever met” and just to prove her right, I took it to heart. An astrologer said, “You have so much water in your chart. What is it like to feel the emotions of every single person alive, everyday?” and I wept because I sensed he was displeased. A teacher told my parents “She’s very sensitive. Far more than the other kids in her class.” I took my SATs at 9 years old, but they encouraged my mother to hold me back because of how my eyes glistened when I heard the word no. She told them to go to hell. So I cried my way through my education until high school when they said “You take everything so personally, you’ll never survive in a company environment. You wouldn’t make a good employee.” So I employed myself (out of spite or…necessity) and then later, I hired 200 people. A boyfriend told me “Don’t be so dramatic, everything isn’t a movie.” Fine, so it’ll be an album then. The doctor said “This shouldn’t hurt a bit.” I tread daily on a minefield that leaves me classifying the variations in footsteps, the tonality in voice, a change in breath. “Is everything okay? You seem mad” is my pledge of allegiance to this tightly wound bundle of flesh. I am cut open, butterflied and flayed, with every single nerve exposed like live wires and, yes, they all hurt to touch. Each interaction is a litmus test of how well liked I am, and therefore how worthy to live. I wake up every morning and the moral barometer resets, T-minus 12 hours to prove to myself that I am not the bad person I believe I must be. Sleep, repeat. An amnesiac nightmare. Prometheus on a rock and the gull in my guts is myself. I once envied those with greater armor, but not anymore. “Why do you care so much?” Guard yourself from the little grievances, but the shield does not differentiate. The space where I am vulnerable to the pain that passes through is an entry point for the microscopic good that others may miss. I live in technicolor torment. If I could do it over again and choose the comfortable grey, I would seize a knife and cut the little keyholes back into my every limb. So the light can get in.