AOAN

I fled from my home, like a war refugee fleeing from a hostile country. I didn't even grab any belongings, just my purse, and off I went. I walked calmly to the van. To an outsider I would have looked just like someone about to run some everyday errands. I climbed in and had a brief moment of panic as I slid the key into the ignition. "What if it doesn't start?" I thought to myself. I found myself holding my breath and praying as I gently turned the key, and thanking God when the engine turned, and then caught. I'm free.

But only for this moment in time. I put the car in reverse, and start driving. I turned north, which I did not realize at the time. Going south was my usual custom. South would bring me closer to him. To the place I had always wanted to be. But now to the place of my devastation. A devastation of the like my life hadn't seen in fifteen years. Instead I went north, subconsciously fleeing from all of my pain. Not just the immediate. Not just the acute.

I feel something wet on my face, and I realize I've been crying. At first it was just one or two tears, but once they broke free it was as if a dam had sprung a leak in its most vulnerable spot and then crumbled under the rush of newly free flowing water. One or two tears turned into a trickle which quickly escalated to a river of salty tears. I am watching myself like I am watching a movie, outside of my body. A defense mechanism I mastered long ago. Fleeing my body that is in so much pain. Meaningless pain.

I watch as my body sobs in huge uncontrollable heaves. I know that I must be hyperventilting and I softly whisper to my body to breathe. Just breathe. But my body is not listening to me. It does not feel the tingling sensation of its lips. I just pray that I get to where ever it is I am going before I pass out.

The van has come to a stop. "That's good" I think to myself, as I watch my body collapse into a puddle of heavy heaves and wet tears. My breathing is so fast, so uncontrolled, and I know my body is being flooded with too much oxygen. I see myself try to steady my breathing, but it's just not working. Blackness comes.

I wake up with the salty taste of tears and snot on my lips. Every few breaths my body still shudders from crying. Its hot in the van, I had turned it off when I got to the park, but the windows were closed and the sun was beating on the roof. It was nearing eighty degrees out already. I wipe the snot off my face with a towel and open the door to step out. A cool breeze hits my face, and I close my eyes and lean into the wind, trying to hear its soft whispers, its secret messages that it holds just for me. I stand there for a moment, feeling its gentle caress as it blows past me.

"I can do this...." I whisper to myself. "I can do this."
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Torture

You know I am here.
You, the prey,
The doe grazing
In the fields.
At first you did not
Sense me,
Now you just can't
Find me.

I know all
Your secrets,
All your life,
All your shame.
I see
Your every moment,
Your every day.

Your muscles so tense
I imagine them splitting
Like a rubber band
Stretched too far
And feel an evil happiness
At the thought.

I know
You can
Feel my eyes
Boring into you.
You feel
Like I am so close
You can almost feel
My breath
On your neck.
I love the agony
I cause you.

Now at your wits end
You dash, running
As fast as you can,
But not fast enough,
For the agile cat is
Forever smarter
And will always
Have you in
The end.

Copyright Misty M. Millard 10/22/1997

Second Dust

The darkness has come
Forever to stay you were
Right on the money and
Now I will pay. The love
Has run short and I
Do not know why. I love
Who he was but
Do not know who he is.
All I see now is
My beautiful son.
He is my world and
My life, everything
Else is just dust.
One day he will
Write his own poems
Of love and love lost
Angst and beauty
Combined into one.
I will love him
Forever although
He may never know
How deep my love flows
He will know he is loved
Because everything else
Is just
Dust.

Copyright Misty M. Millard 11/21/2001

Dust

What is this
The color of nothing
The smell of anything
The feel of something
Small but impacting
The corner of my mind
Its what I've known
But always escapes
My tongue turning purple
Face turning blue in
My mind I can see
That I don't love
You are my hero my
Life cannot end as
Our world begins I
Like the willow bend
But cannot fold love
Is my life you
I cannot hold
Dust.

Copyright Misty M. Millard 11/17/1999 revision done 12/19/1999

Swimming in a River

***this is an essay I wrote in my freshman years of college***

Excited about my trip to swim in a river for the first time, and needing to get away from my family before they drive me nuts, I yell as loud as I can, "Come on guys, hurry up!". It's always impossible to get them all ready to go at the same time. Thoughts of what it will be like to swim in a current that's not man made, like the lazy susans at the water parks in Florida, taunt my mind, making me even more in a rush. We drive down the winding, hilly road slowly, for we aren't used to hills as big as the ones in northern Alabama. After what seems like an eternity we arrive at the river. I jump out of the car, gladly leaving my family behind, and run to the water's edge.

The water, cold and clear, is perfect for swimming in this hot summer day. I jump in, giving a yelp of surprise at the actual water temperature. When my feet touch the bottom they slide around (the alga on the rock makes it impossible to stand steady) until I give up and start to swim again.

I reach a place where the water current has lessened from an uncomfortable push to a gentle, comforting tug. It is quiet; all the noise from humans is not present. I can hear nature's chorus as the frogs, crickets and birds sing their gentle song with the accompaniment of the wind softly rustling the leaves of some trees. The sounds comfort me, relieving me of the mundane stresses of everyday life and revealing the calmness an joy Eve must have felt during her short stay in the Garden of Eden.

Crawling onto the riverbank, I lie down, the sheddings of the trees act as a cushion underneath me. The weaving branches form a canopy up above me creating a natural sun umbrella. A wonderful sense of peace and serenity overcomes me, a feeling I know is impossible to fee away from this place. The soft dirt and sheddings mold around the shape of my body, giving the sensation of being a part of the earth. The silhouette from the canopy creeps ever so softly as the sun travels its path across the heavens.

Hearing my mom yelling for me faintly in the background breaks me from the trance-like state, and I notice just how much time has passed. I stand up and jump in the river to wash the dirt and leaves from me. Realizing disappointedly that it's impossible to swim against the current, I once again crawl onto the riverbank. I take one last longing look at the place where I became a part of the earth, knowing I will not return to this special place again.

I pull myself from nature's trance and begin my long walk down the path that leads back to humanity -- to the place where the slime isn't on the rocks but in the streets doped up and half drunk. The crickets and birds, perhaps sensing my despair, quiet their song to an almost loving lullaby. That day, that feeling, I will never forget. Like the memory of a dream, the time I spent on the riverbank swirls together making it impossible to tell where it begins and where it ends.

Copyright Misty M. Millard 02/07/1998

**notes: amazing how Alabama, Andy, and Kelly park were still so much on my mind at that time. It was right around the time I got engaged to Tom. How sad. I should have followed my heart.**
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A....

Glance.
A smile.
A laugh.
A giggle.
A blush.
The smallest touch.
A spark.
Forbidden.

But there.
And here.
Music -
A "Hello!"
A beginning.

Empathy.
Compassion.
Understanding.

Companionship
To fill
The Loneliness,
Turmoil,
Heartbreak,
Confusion,
Breach of trust.
A glance.

Copyright Misty M. Millard 03/14/2010
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Last Night

Last Night

I cried on my way home last night. Dark winding roads closing in on me. I reached out, and you were there, Only a voice, but one that kept me in reality, Kept the night from closing in.

It was cool outside last night. I was shivering, but not because of cold.

I listen to your voice, feel the steering wheel in my hands, the seat on my back and legs, I focus on your voice and these sensations, feeling the tell tale tingle of my lips - I am close to hyperventilating.

You talk my breathing down. The computer geek telling the midwife how to breath. You ask what happened, but I don't know. The unexpected.

I needed him last night. My weeks have been trying. I just needed to be held. I've never told him I needed him. It was such a simple request, but he walked away from me.

I love him. Loving him has always been easy. I trusted him - he told me I could. Trust is hard for me. But he walked away from me last night, and now my heart is broken.

Copyright Misty M. Millard
11/13/09
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The Beginning

I started this blog in order to make my writings more accessible. I start it with the following disclaimers:

1. Much of the writing from my teenage years is rough, raw, and not always good. It gives you a glimpse into the life of a teenager troubled by abuse she endured as a young child. For any and all of you who are Survivors of sexual abuse the raw emotions on display in some of my poetry from my teenage years may ring familiar to you, and may cause you to revisit things you thought you were "over". Something I have learned (very recently) is you never really get over it.

2. Assume copyright on all of my work. A work of writing is copyrighted as soon as it is written.

3. Please understand that you are getting a glimpse into my soul at various times in my life. Some of the writings are very dark, and appear to be the writings of an unstable person. Though there was a time in my life when I *would* have considered myself unstable, I haven't felt such in a very long time.

4. Use the labels to navigate through my life in time-line, as I will be adding poems and writings randomly and not necessarily in chronological order. I will be posting bits and pieces of my book as it begins taking shape as well. To read the bits of it look for the label "TAOAAN"

And such is the beginning of your journey through my life.
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