I know
You care about me
10 more people do
Yet I can't get rid
Of this feeling
Of doom

I know
I have you
10 more people too
Yet I can't find a person
To talk to
late at night

When she fell
she could feel
the light, its warmth
its happiness
and its stability
she blinked
and she was
plunged into darkness
a darkness that
drowned her
a darkness that
was a struggle
consuming her life

Fly away, fly away, take me away
My heart is aching,
My tears are racing
For the heartaches that I am cradling

I am bleeding
I shed my tears non stop,
I want to tear my heart out
gauge my eyes out

I cant move,
I cant breathe
paralyzed by the pain
I wanna be swept away

Erase my existence
Ease my pain
Take me on my sleep
take my life away

I romanticize the smell of cigs
because I want destroying myself
to be something beautiful and graceful.

The light of day today
is so heavy and dream-like
Makes me feel hazy,
sweetly lazy
has a weird effect in me
It makes me feel good and wrong
funny ways that I've got

It speaks about you and me
hidden in a room, naked, nothing at all
but us. And I want to be there, I do.
Watching the world drip, in our burning embrace.
The rain washes my pain away.

It speaks about the despair I felt at 15
or maybe before even
and how the rain lifted the weight
with its oppressive pretty greys
The rain washes my pain away.

The rain lulls me into your arms
it promises a Sun.
The rain pushes me places
everything I am
or everything I've been?

Why can’t the hardest of hearts
Look into the eyes of a smiling child
And be rid of what keeps them
From being human again?

Inside the forest
a nostalgic alike rain
dies on a flower.

Mori no naka
natsukashii ame
hana de shinu.

© fey  (27/11/19)

that is true
harry*
we know
nothing

he would
have
liked
sham

jimmy sang
hurry up
were

going
down
the
pub..

If I were a poem
I'd be made of words
That only you'd understand.

A sweet sense of magic,
Is hidden in his hand.
A teardrop of green,
Hidden in the gaze towards his land.

Monsters
They’re scary
Some are in the closet
Some are under the bed
But you want to know a secret
The scariest monsters
Are in our heads

Goodbye Poetry

Not everything needs a poem
Sometimes
it’s already

good enough.

Red were the roses, the ones I left on your casket,
Orange were the leaves, the ones in your tree,
Yellow were the bruises, the ones that covered you head-to-toe,
Green were the stains, the ones left on the hems of your jeans,
Blue were your lips, the day you were found in your noose,
Indigo was the night sky, that night that you died,
Violet was that bruise, the one you wore around your neck

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

to read my past journal entries is
to walk on an intimately familiar path,
one in which I know the major landmarks,
the steep mountains, and the deep valleys.

even though I can walk on this path
with my eyes closed and get through,
I don't. I slow down on the way,
noticing flowers I didn't see before.

I pluck a leaf off every flower stem,
and keep it safely between my palms.
the leaves remind me of the flowers
that grew despite the harsh conditions.

whenever I wish for a new beginning,
I blow on a leaf and let it guide me.
I smile, exhale, and walk forward.
behind me, new flowers are blooming.

A funny thing about forever..
--it never, ever ends..

and so   neither will we.

The spirit is free from
all of this-- it will  always
remain lit..

only the flesh goes dark  
as we  leave  its earth-laden husk, behind..

But the core-heart of Love's true ache  will always,
always Remain.

Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.

If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems like *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.

Is a poet still a poet
If they do not write?

A journal gathering dust,
But a yearning to write.
Am I still a poet
Without my inner light?

If words were your dress
then I'd be a king,
sinking in your dazzling brilliance
as people came to look
and ponder
over what you just
said

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

“Social media is taking over our lives,”
she tweeted angrily.

cows in the mountains -
lowing - the sun is setting -
and then comes...silence.

I never told a lie to you
that I love you
I told a lie to myself
that you love me..

I am the next wind
which crosses your neck.
The raindrop on your cheek.
When you wake up
tomorrow I will be the
crease on your face, the
tangle of your blanket.

Know this then, I will
never leave you.  The
scent of me lines your
breath.  

So now I lay me down
to sleep. I pray my soul is
yours to keep.

Amen


Caroline Shank

There is no better teacher than pain.
No better coach than sorrow.
As long as you make it through
'til tomorrow.

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)