So
here I lay in my bed, 7:55 in the morning
And I have to go to work at 9
just like all the days before
everything is the same
except you're gone
so in other words, nothing is the same
as the sun sets here and rises there
your days are endlessly filled
to the brim
yet mine feel so empty
it's the feeling of
standing on a train station platform
and watching the trains come and go everyday
mostly go.
so although I miss you more than I dare to say,
I know my train is coming soon
and then I know nothing will ever be the same
and it's scary
because maybe someday
we'll end up on the same platform
at that old train station
and I can't decide if it would be better
to see you again
nothing the same as it was,
or to keep you as a fond memory
in my head.
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 2:52 AM UTC
I unpacked my boxes
In the comfort of my new home
the comfort
it was real & I unpacked my boxes; good
and bad and I let them spill out
everywhere & I loved the way that my
belongings looked beautiful
and belonging
and it was happy
I opened up the blinds and I loved it even
more
and I decided to stay
But the sad fact
It was a rental, the landlord your emotions
and the currency
was not
sunlit windows
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 1:58 AM UTC
So much emphasis is placed
On finding the face in the crowd
That makes a permanent home in your brain
On the way a small forest fire can sprout from the fingertip touch
Of the one
Who may or may not stay
Just like the feelings that seem too good to be true.
But what about waking up early just to be filled with the solace of a gentle sunrise
Or dancing to the radio while cooking tomato soup in your sunlit kitchen
Or rolling down your car windows despite the falling rain
Or pulling on your favorite socks after eating peanut butter toast
I want you to wake up in the morning and smile because you have a whole life to live
I want you to learn to appreciate the way the light streams over the moutains at 7:36 in the morning
through the air laying heavy with people's thoughts
and through your window screen
Where the light lands in speckles on your bed and seeps into your heart.
I want you to cook your favorite breakfast and ride your bike the long way to work.
The beautiful things in life
Are the ones that are rarely noticed by others.
Love seeps from the earth and from your skin. Don't wait for someone to hand it to you.
Feed it to yourself.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 7:46 PM UTC
I know.
I know today is looming larger
Than the lump in your throat
That you swallowed last night as you
Stood in the shower,
Trying to wash away the feeling
Of everything-is-going-wrong
And replace it with whispers of
It's no big deal
You don't want them to know that
It hurts
Because then the questions will come
As you press your lips together
And blink back the tears that scream
I do not want to be here today.
But even louder is the whisper in your heart saying
You did this last week
You can do it again.
Maybe it's the dead of night right now and that's ok.
Because there is something beautiful
About the night sky
The infinite amount of stars
Match the amount of times you keep trying
The fact that it never ends
seems as impossible as making it through today
But here's a secret; you aren't alone.
You aren't the only shower-crier
Please stop for a second
Reach your hand through your warm skin
And find your heart, where it beats without question.
Tie the beats to your fingers so that you don't forget who you are.
You were created by the same man
Who made the stars.
Not cut from any pattern.
Made from the strongest materials.
Today is hard, I know.
But you can open your eyes.
The sun will rise soon enough, but you might as well stargaze while you're waiting.
I know you will be ok.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 7:39 PM UTC
It's coming.
we can all feel it,
that trembling somewhere in the backdrop,
in your toes
and the pit of your stomach.
you hardly notice unless you stop to realize
this is it
It hits us all differently, i think.
Some embrace it, run to it.
they cannot wait a second longer
Others shrug it off, going through the motions
it's part of life, right?
not to me, not to the rest.
it's the equivalent of realizing
that there are only so many more times that i can see your smile again
that there is a limit to the amount of moments i can laugh so hard it aches
with those that make me feel as if i can climb up the mountains
that i will only be surrounded by for so much longer
and there will be no more driving down the road at 7:32 am
and admiring the way that the sun paints the clouds
and the mountains on the other side pink
and sometimes i can't help but remember the time he and i
shared a love of sunsets
and i dont know if i'll see him again but i hope so (i think)
i know i'll miss it.
the scent of leaves and the music and the sandaled spring days
and best friends and accidental friends
the people i have not known as long as i want,
no; need to know them
you can tell me it's going to be better; that this is just the start of it all
(that there are new people and new laughs and new feelings)
but right now it feels like the ending
the whole world ending
because really that's all it's ever been.
between the stressful tears and the days you thought would never end,
are speckles of laughter
and holding on to each other tight
arms on shoulders belting out a song
about the mountain peaks meeting the starry skies.
maybe it's talking about us,
because sometimes the night sky can be terrifying.
i don't think i can go on
without you all by my side.
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 2:06 AM UTC
Falling.
they say that it’s exhilarating
like a fast car at midnight
cheeks aching from
the grin that couldn’t be held back
warm fingers laced between
the imperfections
forgotten
and yourself
found.
But
what if the car
crashes
and cheeks become tear stained
cold hands holding your own head
heavy with thought
and memories
lost and
broken.
I suppose
I’m yet to find a
fall
that seems worth all the
what if’s.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 2:16 AM UTC
She takes her defeats silently
So as not to inconvenience the others
She keeps them inside
Because she is the happy one
But what happens when one looses their identity?
She is torn
Between
Resigning, done trying
Sad is what she's become
Or rising triumphant,
The return of the sunshine
That seems so distant in the meantime
Blocked by thunder clouds of something that could have been
And
loneliness
(Because although she is surrounded by friends
And people she loves
She takes the defeats silently.)
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 2:15 AM UTC