ONION
By Amanda Leigh

Onion

If I peel off your layers like an onion,
Will I find the ripe in you?
Are you somewhere down under,
Holding an abeyance of the truth?
Your mind is a chasm;
A puzzle I can’t seem to fit together.
If I dismantle you,
Will you find a way to reassemble gracefully?
Maybe you are an orange waiting to be peeled;
A gift striving to be unwrapped;
Clothing begging to be unveiled.
Or sadly, none of these may be true.
Perhaps your innermost circle is already exposed.
I hope for your sake that you are the onion,
Eager to be stripped down to the real you.

Lighthouse

Where is your beacon in the night to guide me;
          A sailor lost at sea?
You used to shine so bright for me in those first few years.
          Your arms were my light.
With time comes neglect and you faded.
          I can’t find my way through these ripples in the ocean.
When I climb your mossy steps,
          The stairs to your heart are endless.
I can’t reach the top to turn on your light once again,
          And so I steer away from you.
I am adrift without your guiding presence;
          A pendulum swinging endlessly.

Sleepy Eyes

when I lay my head down
          tell me beautiful things
                    with your sleepy eyes
                              plummeting me into my dreams

About the Author:

Amanda Leigh is a recent UNCC grad with a BA in English. She is currently a preschool teacher with 18 amazing students! She has been published in journals such as Askew, Cultured Vultures, Better Than Starbucks, and Tipton. She is working on publishing her first novel.