You breathed life in me
from the first day we met.
You gave me
a part of yourself
that I will
always hold
inside of me,
tied up in a knot
so I will never lose it.
I continue to grow,
each breath of yours
adding strength to me,
leaving behind
a pleasant, warm feeling.
And everytime
I feel as though
I am about to burst,
you always know
just how to let the air out.
Dec 28, 2017
Dec 28, 2017 at 10:30 PM UTC
I can see how much
you've changed.
My whole life
you've made your house
a home
and always
invited me inside, but
you're beaten down now,
worn out and overused.
You need help
from top to bottom,
chips and cracks
lining every part of you.
Your railing is wobbly,
swaying from side to side
until one of us
can steady you.
We can't help you anymore,
we don't know what to do.
We're leading you
into someone else's hands
so they can fix you,
so they can help you.
You need to make someone else's
house into a home.
Sep 20, 2017
Sep 20, 2017 at 7:35 AM UTC
I am
the real world's
writing utensil.
From checks,
envelopes,
to contracts,
you'll find me,
not a pencil.
The only problem
with being
the real world's
writing utensil
is that I can never
erase my mistakes.
From scribbling out
to whiting out,
they never
truly disappear.
Jun 28, 2017
Jun 28, 2017 at 11:04 AM UTC
I let people
walk all over me
so much that
I needed signs put up
telling them
to keep off.
Jun 28, 2017
Jun 28, 2017 at 11:01 AM UTC
Everyone has a
love-hate relationship
with us.
One minute
we're being kissed
and the next
we're being left.
People shake us,
throw us,
use us
just to get themselves
more money.
In this game of
love and luck and life,
we lose
every time.
Jun 11, 2017
Jun 11, 2017 at 11:00 AM UTC
My insides
were so
full
when we first met
but then
you kept
squeezing and
pushing me,
using me
till the
very last drop
was gone.
Any excuse
to touch your lips
is okay by me,
even if it means
I am now
empty.
Jun 11, 2017
Jun 11, 2017 at 10:58 AM UTC
You left Scotland
when you were three.
Even though
it wasn't your choice,
you left behind
most of your family.
When you first husband died
you left the city
for a smaller, sleepier town.
You left his gravesite there.
When your second husband died
decades later,
you left your house in that town--
again, not by choice,
but you left your good health
in that old white house on the cul-de-sac.
And when you died
less than two years later,
you left us behind--
left a hole in our hearts--
you left us to live a life
without you.
But when you died,
you also left memories--
laughs smiles hugs love--
you left an impression on us.
I guess sometimes it's okay to leave
as long as you leave something good
behind.
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 5:41 PM UTC
A tad on the quiet side,
I have my articles do the talking.
Telling a story
about an event I saw;
there is nothing more thrilling.
Though my name is smaller
than the title,
I'm still a big deal.
Questions ready, pen poised--
writing is where you hear my voice.
Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 1:54 PM UTC
There's layers
upon layers
of foundation
in my poems
that create
houses upon houses
for a girl who longs
to find home.
Each word
is a brick
that builds
and builds,
leaving onlookers
in awe
at the site
before them.
Each metaphor is
the cement
that holds
my words
together.
The door,
once shut,
is now open
for anyone wanting
to come inside.
And my emotions
are the roof
of these houses,
sitting atop
each and every poem
and making
each house a home
for different parts
of my soul.
Mar 28, 2017
Mar 28, 2017 at 10:44 PM UTC
Your love for me is gravity
I don't see it
but I feel it all around me
in the way it keeps me grounded
while at the same time
allows me to roam freely
and forge my own destiny.
Yet no matter how far I travel,
I will always
gravitate back to you.
Feb 14, 2017
Feb 14, 2017 at 2:57 PM UTC