My Beautiful Miss Nikki.

This poem breaks my heart. I wrote it recently about losing my dog, Nikki. She was a 10-year-old beagle who was taken way too soon. While I still have Cleo in my life, and now have another puppy named Brady, a piece of my heart is missing with the loss of Nikki, as she and I had an incredible bond. Every time I came home from college, she was so excited to see me, and I likewise. Even the day I came home to say goodbye, she still got up to greet me, as this poem demonstrates. I love you, my baby girl, and I hope you're keeping daddy company. My life isn't the same without either of you.


My Beautiful Miss Nikki

Your eyes tried to shine in devastating moments
of weakness, and my heart leapt at the painful
sentiment of knowing you were to leave.
With legs that’d lost their strength, you rose
to greet me still with your happiness that
was shown with your joyful tail.
Your coat still smooth and shiny, I shook
seeing how what was underneath had
begun to waste away even with desperate attempts
of trying to keep you safe and sound.
You lived with a willingness greater than that of beings
much larger, and the daunting task of deciding your fate
is still impossible to live with as I remember how hard you tried.
I hope you felt some comfort as we sat in our chair; your head found
solace underneath my chin, and your paw was placed
restfully on my shoulder; my breath then taken away from
the sadness that poured out of my regretful eyes.
I thought back to so many other times that we sat
together, drifting off to sleep or just enjoying each other’s company,
but the other times didn’t have that constraint
of knowing you would never be in our chair again.

Persuasion.

This is just one those poems about the kind of tension that you could cut through with a knife :P

Persuasion

What of the chance we could lie together,
breathing in unison and quickening the
pace; my eyes straining to keep consciousness;
yours are just a bit too much of heaven.
I lose control of my hands as they find your face,
and I shiver as I’m sure you will. Closer,
just a little closer, I inhale to get closer;
you’re too good to give it away.
Persuasion is such a funny thing.

September 23, 1992.

This poem was originally written during my senior year in high school, and went untouched until maybe last week. I changed it a lot, but kept a lot of the same imagery and ideas. It's about the night I found out my dad had passed away.

September 23, 1992

Just a playful five year-old waiting patiently
in my aunt’s quaint house, my reflection smiled back
from the window I looked out with the light from
the kitchen creating a blinding glare.
Outside, daylight faded away more quickly; nature’s
bold statement telling us summer’s over; although it
would seem my life was over instead.
I was sleepy and lethargic when my mom returned,
and the headlights shone in the window but quickly dimmed
when she shut off the ignition of my father’s car.
She dragged herself in the house with an expression unknown.
Even then, I didn’t know my house would shelter one less.
She sat on the couch, she took my hands, and hers were a mess;
cold, aching, tired, shaking.
“Kristen, daddy’s gone.”
Those words will forever haunt my heart,
but I didn’t cry because I didn’t understand.
I thought I’d go home and he'd come back one day.