Didn't realize she was missing,
Hadn't noticed she was gone,
'till I looked down at my hands and realized how long
It had been,
Since I picked up a pen.
Her whispers, like secrets,
Always finding my ears,
Her light in my eyes,
Her soul in my tears.
Now dashed away, silent,
Mind as blank as the page,
Afraid this is the end,
Last call,
Leave the stage.
No. I refuse.
As long as I speak,
I will find words to use.
I will be my muse.
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 2:06 AM UTC
Glare at the blank page,
Splatter it with black
the oil that oozes up
from deep inside me.
Shape it to a likeness
Give it a collar, a chain
But I prefer not to name it.
I'm good at keeping the door cracked.
I keep the key around my neck,
In case I need to shut them in,
Or shut myself in?
I'm not sure which side of the door
is the inside.
They bang on rough wood.
Scrape with sharp nails.
I haven't named them.
If only they didn't know mine.
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 6:04 AM UTC
I saved for all my life,
Every dime,
Every penny.
I kept it in jars,
And counted it
Before I went to sleep.
I saved all my life,
Before spending every coin
On you.
I dropped them
Down the wishing well,
And I wished on every star,
And every tear,
But tears
Are just salt water,
And coins are just metal,
I throw away down a well,
And I'm too late,
Cause those stars are far away,
And already dead.
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 9:18 AM UTC
The worst part
Is I have no words for this.
My collection of witty phrases
is empty.
This isn't artistic pain
it's just depression.
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 11:28 PM UTC
Maybe if we threw time out the window,
and it sprout wings and flew away,
Maybe I wouldn't be so tired,
and if seconds where just a rhythm,
and minutes where just for paint to dry,
maybe I wouldn't be restless,
Maybe we could just watch the sun rise,
and wake up when we are no longer tired,
and say goodbye when we want to leave,
maybe we wouldn't fade.
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 9:43 PM UTC
The first word is the hardest
To fill the page of snow
Small marks like fox tracks
along the blank page
telling a story of
cold whispers,
flakes of ice.
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 9:33 PM UTC
I walk through life with an anxious mind,
And the burden of remembering to breath.
My family says I have many abilities
But I think I'm best at the one where I fold in on myself
And disappear.
I am the quiet girl in the back of the class,
Who occupies her time with stories and fictional friends.
And I may feel inferior in the department of drama and boyfriends,
But I hold my head high in the ways that I can read a book in a day,
and have acquired a far bigger vocabulary than your twitter feed has ever called for.
I walk through life with an anxious mind and the heavy heart of being accepted.
My ears are full of the whispers, constantly reminding me,
Don't cross your arms,
be open,
smile,
laugh,
don't say weird things,
just don't talk,
but don't be dull.
My head is so full of fear, My mind is so tired.
I think,
Maybe I'll just stay home and read today.
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 8:51 PM UTC
I inhale it like a cigarette.
It fills my lungs,
and blackens my mind.
A bright day shadowed,
by the thunder in my head.
The sudden catch of an anxious heart,
jumping off a bridge.
Like the bad taste of medication,
The pills stick in my throat,
I choke them down.
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 11:19 PM UTC
It's late,
and I'm alone.
And it's dark,
so the shadows hide better.
But it's quite,
so the thoughts project louder.
And it's late,
and I'm tired,
so I'm weak.
And I'm alone.
Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 12:52 AM UTC
She was a dream,
As lucid as the sea,
And we sat in the sand
And laughed on the wind.
And her eyes,
A serene lagoon of green.
And a kiss,
Salty like the sea ****
That washed up on the shore,
And danced under the waves.
And she was a dream?
That girl and me,
And her green eyes by the sea.
Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 12:46 AM UTC