everyday poems

3/2
here,
not now.
two years ago, and eight
days
who was i then
nichole.
nikkie
now nick
shorter
maybe sweeter
3/3
waiting
swimming in time
letting flow
go and grow
know never gone,
just passed
3/4
streching out
and up
tingles my finger
like touching new
skin or walking
barefoot on a new floor
metaphore all i have
to write
to to say
to understand
3/7
sickness rips apart
a comforting senery
and tears threw
sameness
perhaps a blessing,
appriciation for health
but stationary,
a curse
3/8
i am becoming beautiful or insane.
maybe.
i thought it might happen
but i dont really care which
as a child i just want to become.
so i can look back and be serene.
when i was unbeautiful.
and sane.