The strain of trying


I try and it hurts,
this trying.
The strain of it
stretches me out of
the shape I wish to assume
and into some mangled,
half-woman creature.
What do I try? You may ask.
Everything, I’ll answer,
yet somehow it never
seems to work out
the way I want it to.

© 2020 Leona Petrovic

Image Credit HERE

Clock on the wall


Ticking off the minutes,
Ticking off the days
The years will be
Marched by as well
Marked only by the
Continual circling of the hands
Around and around
From one roman numeral to another
Everytime I walk past
That noise
Fills my heart with dread
I don’t see the beauty
In the swinging pendulum
And smooth face
All I hear is
The ticking of a
Relentless bomb
With no way to know
When it will detonate. 

Image Credit HERE

Killing Time


time is gone

Days turn into endless fog,
Repetitiousness drags me down.
I fill my minutes
With ten thousand worthless tasks.
I’m killing time,
It’s running out.
One day I’ll never wake up,
I bled it dry.

Image Credit HERE



She sketches the faces
Of all who have hurt her.
Everyone who ever
Held her head beneath
The lapping waves.
Anyone who shoved her
Into the dirt.
The anger fills her,
She can’t help the raging bonfire within.
She closes her eyes,
Draws in a breath
And feeds those pictures to the wind.

Image Credite HERE


Spring is finally here


Spring has finally come,
winter has flown away
on wings of warmth.

She has finally thawed,
her heart is no longer
coated in ice,
like a pane of glass,
frosty in subzero temperatures.

Spring is the opening, the start,
the world begins anew in spring.
Spring is the season for healing,
for emerging, for rebirth.
Broken hearts begin to heal
and so do broken girls.

Image Credit HERE