And at the end of the day
When the shades have been drawn
When the lights have been dimmed
When the doors are closed,
When the bed is ready for you to crawl in
When a single candle burns on your nightstand
At the end of the day,
When you have shut the world out
When you have fallen to your knees
When you are all alone
When you are naked
When you are shivering before your God
When your tears fall so fast
And your voice rattles and is unrecognizable
Like an old car engine about to die
I hope, I pray
That with an empty breath, a squeak, a sigh
You say, after all you have seen, felt, and heard
You are still good.
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 12:07 AM UTC
You write good
Your words flow
Beautifully across
The crisp white page
I read good
Appreciating every beat
The aesthetic order
In which you placed the words
You expect much
Placing a sense of yourself
Between the lines
Of the poetry you write
I feel much
Reading your soul
Feeling your emotions
Forgetting my own for a minute
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 8:41 PM UTC
Serenity lurks at the grave
With a pale face
And silver eyes
She breathes slowly
She walks with assurance
Confident of the outcome
Aware that though darkness lies ahead
At least she knows it is there
Serenity will not be caught off guard
By any disturbance
She understands then
She knows now
She accepts later
She sometimes sings a song
Or dances a simple dance
Passers by ignore the activity
Too busy to notice her
If you want to find Serenity
It would not be difficult
She waits for all
At the grave of Worry
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 9:38 PM UTC