Clock (an acrostic poem)

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Counting down the hours, minutes, and seconds was painful

Letting my emotions swing back and forth, back and forth, twisting my gut in knots

Observing how life seems to move in slow motion making breathing difficult

Can’t seem to make those hands spin any faster, even if I stare so hard at the thing I go blind

Killing time sounds like it would be easy, but now I realize time is killing me instead

Thread (an acrostic poem)

Twisting herself into knots

Heather tried to bind her feelings

Reasoning while her life was unraveling

Enabled her to look at the patterns emerging

And stitch something together that was quite beautiful out of tragedy

Daring someone else to make it through the eye of her needle

 

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