The Fading Yesterday Me

I don’t know the yesterday me.

She walked paths of bubble gum dreams

wearing skirts too short for crosses to bear.

I still have long hair, but gray has invaded

golden blond, and I look more hag than innocent.

Oh, my younger me tries to break the 

shadow door, but the creaking bone chain

that holds the key doesn't like to rattle history.

I live in the moment…Doesn’t that sound enlightened?

It’s not. I’m practical because my tomorrows are shrinking.

The yesterday me thought she knew everything.

Today I’m always on a hunt for my phone,

because it holds lists of what I’m sure to forget.

©Susie Clevenger 2025

You can also read it Here at Hello Poetry

Vanity Hounds Me

 

Photo by Brooke Shaden

 

“Vanity is becoming a nuisance, I can see why women give it up, eventually.
 But I'm not ready for that yet.” ― Margaret Atwood, Cat's Eye

 A mirror doesn’t accuse. 
It is I who cuts myself
into a thousand miseries.

I am pottery painted
by every word I pull
through the glass.

An aged vessel, I search for flaws,
dividing myself by scars, and
yesterday’s photos…
a seeker of lost ignoring found.

Gratitude prods me to look
deeper than vanity’s gnawing hound,
but I’m too human to not wish
the calendar wasn’t turning me
into a dried apple. 

©Susie Clevenger 2022

The Sunday Muse #233