Torn,Tattered Hearts 

The years haven’t erased

the sharpness of the pain

still brings tears to her eyes

and try as she might

there is a part of her

that can’t forget the day

the hearts were all

torn and tattered

shredded into pieces

marked with words

crossed out and underlined

that left her scarred

where no-one could ever see

she had held the box

decorated with such care

daring to hope against hope

though her intuition had known

All eyes were on her

almost taunting

she really should have waited

but she went on ahead anyway

 took a deep breath

opened up the box

and felt the bottom drop out

torn tattered hearts

words in black 

scratched out the “love”

mark “don’t” instead

broken candy bars

smashed into pieces

There was not much

 she could do

no saving grace

just too late

bite her  tongue

blinked her eyes

willed herself not to cry

slide that box underneath

the wooden desk

pray for strength

to pretend best as she could

until finally the bell rang

 And she escaped

threw away the box

 full of shame and hate

written on so many 

torn, tattered hearts

💔Jeanna 

10 54 a.m 2+12-17

http://www.jeannasoul.com

Walking Papers

Now that I know

I’m not wanted anymore

it’s all I can do 

not to take everything

down off the walls

roll tissue paper around

the things I’ve collected

 pack the boxes

stack them one by one

take all the paintings

the pictures and the words

stack them together 

tie the string on tight

sit in the rocking chair

on my patio I love

blow kisses to the air

wipe the tears

that dare to blur my sight

I’ve got my walking papers

and I don’t belong

I never stay

and I sure don’t go

where I’m not wanted

anymore

Just waiting for the door

to open wide

I’m already packed

in my mind

Pulled my boots on

when I heard the words

and these boots were made

for walking

I’m gonna walk away

from this place

but I’m taking all my things

every memory

each embrace

all those things

that won’t fit 

inside any box

or tied with string

because they are carved

into the walls of my heart.

👣💗👣💗 Jeanna’ Mead 

6 17 a.m.  2-11-18

http://www.jeannasoul.com

http://www.rockwallbodyandsoulmassage.com

Red Rover

“Red Rover, Red Rover”

She lays there

half awake and half asleep

long ago memories

pushing thru the haze

“Red Rover, Red Rover”

She stared at the row

of hands held tight

looking for the weakest link

to run to and break free

much to the surprise 

of those that doubted

 her might and strength

They only saw her size

bites and pieces 

of who she was

the label that they used
to try to describe

the girl they called

to break the line

“Red Rover, Red Rover”

She heard them call 

“Come over, Come over”

Spurred on by the doubts and the taunts

She ran as if her life depended on it

Broke the chains and the expectations

and suddenly she was in

standing in a row

lined up with the very same ones

that moments ago

spurred her on with doubts and taunts

“Red Rover, Red Rover”

Here she was

needed now 

She clasped the outstretched hands

and braced herself

dug her heels in

willed herself to have

more might and strength

Don’t let anyone think

she’s the weakest link

never let them break through

even if they knock her down

with doubts and taunts

she’ll surprise them all

that thought they knew

bites and pieces

of the girl they used a label

to describe

“Red Rover, Red Rover”

She sits up 

wide awake now

seeing clearly 

all the times 

she clasped hands

broke through the chains

the expectations

the labels

surprising herself and others

with her might and strength

and finding out

exactly what are the weakest links

and who is strong enough

to hold her hand

break free and be there

“Come over, Come Over”

Maybe

Maybe she could do more
And do with less
Maybe she could be satisfied
With what she had
After all, it would be enough
For almost anyone
Maybe she could tame
The urge inside her
To go and see
Hunt and explore
Maybe
Instead of looking
Outside the windows
And wondering
What the rest of the world
Looked like
She could just imagine
What it would be like
Maybe she could patch
The worn out soles
Mend the holes
Patch up the places
That had worn thin
And maybe,just maybe
She could find a way
To do everything
Just the way
She needed.

Feel with both hands, Jeanna’