Sometimes,
you find an empty stairwell.
Seldom used, not that clean.
But a gentle kind of quiet fills it,
the kind with chatter in the distance
and the smell of coffee from a nearby cafe.
You pause on the landing
between two flights.
A place between places,
a nowhere floor.
It's not a destination,
it's nowhere anyone's going.
Take a deep breath,
have a moment alone,
a moment of peace,
in this nowhere place.
Oct 29, 2018
Oct 29, 2018 at 10:29 AM UTC
Blank journal pages:
All have dates, but instead of writing,
you just stared for ages
as your pen left a black inky pool.
I could lose myself in that pool
I dip my fingers in ink
and stare at the swirls
as I try not to let myself sink
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 10:26 PM UTC
Sometimes,
lots of times,
I look back.
I fear I will turn to salt
like the taste of tears
reaching your lips.
I can't help it,
to turn back and look
it's human nature.
What do I look back at?
the good times
the bad times
lots of times
I'm different now
not bad not good not (yet) salt
just different.
Dec 19, 2017
Dec 19, 2017 at 12:05 PM UTC
I lost my touch
when it comes to
writing poetry.
But...
Frost, Baudelaire, Rimbaud
Angelou, Whitman, Eliot
all comfort me in my loss.
Nov 25, 2017
Nov 25, 2017 at 8:58 PM UTC
The other day
my dad asked if
I am happy
and I didn't know
how I could answer
and I couldn't lie
but I couldn't worry him
there was a long silence
I took a deep breath
and said
I'm doing my best
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 10:12 PM UTC
Sometimes, i feel like a ghost.
I'm sitting in an empty train car,
staring out at a barren countryside.
It's winter, the trees are dead, the sky is gray,
there's no trace of life outside,
no trace of life inside the train,
no trace of life inside of me.
This is the train in which
they transport my coffin.
The box that holds all that was me
as I sit as stare out the window
Sometimes, I feel like a ghost.
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 11:29 PM UTC