I keep waiting for the other shoe to fall,
the other person to get sick
and wander off


they tell me these are things I was always afraid of,
so I can’t even blame it on exes


but the axe behind a stranger’s back
just doesn’t carry the same weight anymore


and I am fearful of never 
growing old


it isn’t death,
it’s the process in which I age,
the lines turning to wrinkles turning to regrets
with nothing much to show for it


I’m sure someone will want to hold my hand,
walk me through the Secret Garden,
but I’ll just end up stepping
on their toes


when the other shoe falls off,
someone will be waiting to catch it


at least long enough to
throw it away.

03/02/2009
Posted on 03/02/2009
Copyright © 2025 Ava Blu

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 03/02/09 at 09:05 PM
The thing I really like about this is the way you're going inside your mind, but you don't seem to have a particularly firm grip on what it is that you want to find. It's a journey of sorts, and that's what this poem seems to be doing, giving us a blow-by-blow account of that journey. And it does that exceptionally well.
Posted by Charlie Morgan on 03/02/09 at 09:22 PM
...avablue, 

"it isn’t death,
it’s the process in which I age,
the lines turning to wrinkles turning to regrets
with nothing much to show for it..."

what a capstone to my perception and in your journal were'nt you the one saying she was outa stuff to write...man 0' man, ahhh girl o' girl...i, like the gabester, loved the way of not describing it by describing what that is that's all around it!!!  and that middle line kickedmearse. 

Posted by George Hoerner on 03/03/09 at 12:10 AM
If you come to some understanding of who you are, you will have more to show for it than many.