Turmeric Stained Words

I like to meditate on my silence

Reflect on the memories that are no longer

Alive

But so vibrant in my brain

Like the turmeric powder on the kitchen floor

The fight on kingsway on the way to our date

The women in the short skirt

And the knee high boots

I like white wine

And I am hyper and poetic and optimistic

A lot of people don’t like me

I wronged them, probably,

But I was running way too fast on life’s treadmill to see

To slow down, to acknowledge, to take in

To Breathe

Oh, Hello

Oh hey there Bernalinne

Oh hey there old friends

Tubing the night away at some crappy old joint

Munching fries, sitting in the back of Peter’s white truck

White. But no, that reminds me

Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow

It’s always been my favourite color

Yellow

I like poetry the most

Apparently, or so I say

I do

But I never write it

Afraid of my own words

I turn the mirror the other way

Take it down from it’s perch

I am scared at night

But my turmeric sheets keep me warm

Or, so they say