Melody DiGregorio

Your Chalk Outline (Or What You Did Was a Crime)

As the mountains stand, cold and alone
So did our dark and brooding relationship.
We were a well worn road, in need of repair-
But you never stop to fix the potholes of our affair.
You just kept rolling over me without a care.
As the ocean is deep and wide
So was my love for you, I could never hide.
Yet as a puddle is shallow so was your faithfulness.
Time and again, you defiled what was ours alone.
Your storm of pain pounded against my heart
The once fragile walls have toughen in indignation.
I once worshipped at the temple of humiliation,
Even allowed you to bully me into aborting a baby-
With the promise of marriage maybe.
I was nothing to you, but a convenience-
Until- I wasn’t, and you couldn’t, but he did.
And now
I am loved, you are not
And now you are the one spending nights
Waiting
Crying
Begging
To be loved
You will not forget me and what you lost- but I will not remember you after this sentence is through
Because for me, I actually found my happily ever after


Deadly Drunk

Nineteen years old, what were you thinking?
Blood alcohol level sky high, you kept on drinking.
You choose to get behind the wheel of that Silverado
Was it pure stupidity, or some sort of asshole bravado?
It wasn’t enough you were driving that damn truck
You were texting too , you goddamn fuck.
You swerved that multi ton hearse into my friends and their little car.
You ended her life and left him so scarred.
Some will say you ruined your life too
But the problem is , they don’t have a clue
Your family can still see you, talk to you, maybe one day hug you.
But all Bob will have is scars and broken bones,
And he and his children will be left alone, an urn to hug thanks
To your drinking and phone


Connections

Feelings like fingers, reach out to touch and connect to one another
On the joyous occasion the kinship is created
Quite possibly there are times, some are mated.
But there are many times, when like a child who touches a hot flame
Those gentle fingers are scorched and scarred,
They hesitate to reach out again
Soon the calluses they build, no longer venture to bond
But curl into tightly bound fists of bitter loneliness


About the Author

I am a sixty-two-year-old retired surgical R.N., who after a successful career of opening bodies of patients with scalpels, I now choose to open your soul with my words. I have been creative writing all my life, published in THE PINK CHAMELEON over three times. I am a member of the Woodstock Poetry Society, Roxbury Arts Writers Association, and Writers in The Mountains. My short stories have been published locally in our Catskills Autumn Journal. Currently, I am the staff essayist and commentator at WIOX FM 91.3. I am on the MORNING EDITION every Friday morning. I also have my own show every Sunday afternoon, from 4 to 5 p.m. – “THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID” – a Feminist issues talk show, and essay segment. I have a strong nose for news and politics, covering all things that encompass post- election, governing body matters, and local happenings.

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