“Drip, drip, drip …”

   I feel as tho I could slip; 

   not to fall, just to falter 

   mistakes unmasked left up at the altar. 

   Why is it that I seem to …

   regret all the things I know

   I can’t undo?

   Darkness engulfs, overpowering me.

   My mind creeping, 

   filling, overwhelming me.

   Wandered thoughts not settled,

   or put to bed. 

   Flickering, deja vu,  

   these thoughts have fled.

   The faucet leaks,

   The wood floor creaks.

   Sounds unnoticed in the light,

  magnified just to spite.

  Past failures, loves, things undid.

  Worries, regrets, feelings I hid.

   Paths not taken for greener grass

  I feel as tho I am the ass!

   To point! To proclaim you were the one!

   When in reality, 

   It was my web that I had spun.

   My regrets, my unheard yearnings,

   they are mine, not yours.

   Even if for the moment, it was you; 

   not I that I had cursed. 

   To an abyss;

   Where thoughts are never taken amiss.

   Not even revealed,

   remaining forever sealed.

  To a slumber, but not to rest. 

   My mind, heart, soul a mess.

   It is here I find solace in 

   subconciousness’ embrace,

   peace and serenity, in the dreams

   I will forever chase. 

   Drip, drip, drip …

   It is for certain I have have slipped  …

  ~ Bridgett 

“Lost” 

Time ticks at an unfamilar pace

slowly then quickly,fast forward,rewind

irregular,intermittant,confusing,

painstakingly unwinds.

My mind races, 

grasping at slippery thoughts,

while photos captions, hopes and ideas

all become but a matted smear.

the purpose of life,

the reason for breathe

flickering visions 

of aspirations not met.

forward movements, microscopic, 

often unseen

is what I have left 

of this wild crazy dream.

round and round, up then down

smiling, laughing, uncommonly me

this carousel, engulfs me, 

never to be free

light fades, darkness consumes,

taking all that I fear

Slowly,mockingly the bubbles disappear.

~Bridgett

 ”Piece in Pieces” 

 Wondering about the colors gone askew

 Hoping that time can make them anew

 Wishing for something to change

 Feeling as tho it will never be the same

 I wanna pick up the now antique brush

 Making strokes, long, bright and flush

 Putting on the canvas,covered in layers

 The newest pattern to be savored

 Knowing in time the overuse will show

 No longer a piece of art work to glow

 Tattered, worn, faded and abused

 The canvas of life scarcely perused

 ~Bridgett

So I just wanted a place I could save and share some of my poetry … enjoy!