All things happen when they are meant to be … in time

Comments (0) Issue 1, Poetry, Writing

By Jackie Krozy


They said, he said, she said,

I mechanically wag my head,

But really, I do not accept these words.

Lava grumbles and lurches,

Opening crags in my stomach,

As mindfully, I make that hesitant smile,

hear their hypocritical advice from greedy hearts

That have that sacred thing

That my whole life forfeits to,

A sentence I am punished with by being human.


I walked to my work,

Interloping on a prelude to a porn scene,

A boyfriend and girlfriend locking lips

Like security guards at the entrance of a club,

Hampering my path through the corridors,

As tripped over the lattice of their laced bodies

Towards my destination.

A coworker from the opposing division greets me,

then walks away to her comrades

bragging, chattering like a movie star,

flicking her new ring,

OMG I am so happy for you!

Squealed a voice like a squeaky rubber duck.


I trudge onward to the semipublic privacy

Of the open lunchroom,

Cracking open the can of my organic soup,

Bury her ring in furious, frantic

Shoves of chicken and pale

noodles into the microwave bowl,

Press the button, fire it like lava.

Eat it, work, homework, run to the bathroom,

Have people stare at my strange strides,

As I run clumsily like a drunken monkey,

Their perplexed eyes,

Magnify my anxiety,

Fed by my loneliness.

Grab the uniform, get ready, go,

stumble towards my clients and coworkers

A mundane comfort of routine,

Fulfilling chaotic chatter,

Flocks of crowds who want me,

But don’t bother getting my number.

My coworker arrogantly grins,

Goes on with his talk,

My girlfriend this, my girlfriend that

When I am near answering

I jab back, “My GPA is higher.”


Shift’s done, walk, run, gallop,

Forward, turn left, right,

Backwards, into my abode,

To face it, taunted by my loneliness,

my best friend’s remarks,

Telling me I am so lucky,

You have been around,

You have had it.


You don’t tell someone you love her

Twisting her wrists as you raise your fist.

They feel their lies,

Even if they know

I was a victim,

They grope and fondle their misperceptions:

I was the cause of my misery,

While I am chained by the memory,

another woman’s tacky lingerie,

Enveloped in my laundry,

reading flirty texts to other women,

How can love be possible

If they refuse to promise?

Comforted by my endless monologue,

While others roll their eyes like slot machines,

Pretending to listen, yet, rejecting my rants that

Degrade and dehumanize men

Who tell me that they will never leave me,

Yet they always do!

I retain that white veil,

Over the inert, semi-permanent sketches of my heart.

These thoughts don’t go away,

They are my companions,

My prose that runs through me

holding my suffering like gentle arms

cradling my sanity.


When it’s meant to be

Is completely empty,

Words from people who have it,

Who obtain it, saying oh I have been there,

They remember what it’s like to be alone.


Yet they have found affection,

The companionship that I never had,

Too many men destroying a passionate night

with a quick wave and a text,

We never dated. You never were my ex.

How can friends see each other undressed?

Even if I envision that perfect situation,

Heaven’s midst garnered in a white dress,

I see only abuse and rejection:

Insomnia’s clause to a dead dream,

Out of my reach,

I give up, give up, then fight again,

Rebuking and grappling my conscience

Like an exploding brain blender,


Incessantly shredding

my promise to stay away from men,

Those sadists who have left me broken,

kneeling on the floor, cowered over,

Begging them not to hurt me.

I am not healed from flashbacks,

abandoned, alone, held hostage at the apartment

5:00am, he is drinking with other girls,

comes back to accuse me with his katana,

sweating drops smeared by liquor.

He lurches at me,


pinning me against the wall,

hands around my throat,

I see myself elsewhere wondering

Will I be greeted by the choir of wedding bells,

Or the somber chimes that tell

The anguish of my burial.

If I rush time to unveil my fate,

Knowing but doubting,

That my deceased past

Will not be my destiny.


I am spending light-years

Lost, daydreaming of my wedding day

Romance into the star balcony,

Clustered round the moon,

Boasting outside my window.

I peer into my reflection,

Holding my body,

Touching it,  the embrace that I long for.

I doubt he exists,

his image wavers in my imagination—

then I lose it,

As meeting him

seems impossible.

flashbacks of blood on my lips remind me

why I am not ready.


I shake off my insecurities,

Find solace in my own company,

Until it confronts me the next day,

When I am haunted by the ghastly

daydream of forbidden desire,

As I see my friend,

Who invites this opportunity I forbade,

To pursue a new romance,

Only to be dissembled by my memories,

Afraid to reveal my heart

To a new man,

When all the others before

pulled the trigger of my kindness

and shot me with it.


My thoughts strangle me.

While my desire resurrects my heart,

frees me from my bindings,

I retire myself into my noir nest,

Abode of onyx solitude tucked in,

My eyes tense with deprivation—

I deny that I will meet him soon,

Darkness covering his image,

I slumber alone.


Leave a Reply