The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.
When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.
If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.
But most people don’t see it.
Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.
The poet lives in two different worlds.
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 12:56 PM UTC
a popular song is out of my reach
lovers kissing or maybe lovers tragedy
I am a singlet, mind made up
to live the promise and gamble
that love incarnate will marry my soul.
Oct 26, 2018
Oct 26, 2018 at 6:21 PM UTC
Survival is get up, eat and get ready for the day. Work, go home, do some mindless activity, get ready for bed and sleep. Each day has the same structure, the same form.
Two things break me out of that; friends and books. Time with these fuels my heart to beat for more. More than day-after-day drudgery, more than simply fulfilling obligations.
With these, days are morning cuddles with my car and music that fills a peaceful house. They are short laughing conversations with my co-workers, or the way the sunlight hits the rain-laden clouds during my commute. They are the little moments of breath-stealing beauty in a good novel or my siblings' jokes. They are the clean feeling after a shower, and the soft warmth that curls around my bones when I bundle into bed for the night.
And this is living.
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 10:11 PM UTC
How the sunlight throws textured shadows on forested mountainsides.
Frost that clings onto windows, curling into icy, sharp rosettes.
The way clouds glow electric white in a soft summer sky.
How music can unfurl or burst or soar or stagger or peal or boom from people's mouths in a vast spectrum.
Sparks that flutter sky-high off a fire.
The way the ocean ripples or roars, blending its ever-contradicting nature into harmonious beauty.
*There is so much breathtaking beauty in this world that I just can't help
but live in
wonder*.
Jun 10, 2018
Jun 10, 2018 at 1:32 AM UTC
Whippy willow-branch crowns
and crystal-cold pool water -
grass-tickled bare feet
and breathless trampoline bouncing -
comfortable, starlit darkness
and hours spent amongst the trees.
These are the memories that return with the summer sun,
and I cannot shake their carefree presence,
or how they pierce my heart.
Summer was always our joy.
Jun 10, 2018
Jun 10, 2018 at 1:21 AM UTC
If you take away my skin
A pensive heart you'll uncover
Pensive heart born to be a lover
The sadness you'll find behind my grin
My pensive heart will never know
How soon is too soon
Or if I should look to the moon
My pensive heart doesn't know
If I go to fast or way to slow
May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 12:08 AM UTC
why is being a dreamer a bad thing?
what is wrong with imagining yourself in a better place,
in a better life.
at least i can lift my head above all the water
that drowns you daily
at least i have the courage to imagine
where i can be
where i will be
at least my mind has the capacity
to know all that i am possible of.
dreams take up the same space as quadratic equations and iambic pentameter,
so stop being upset
when someone calls you a dreamer
and say, with a smile,
hopefully you can be one, too.
May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 12:03 AM UTC
Step 1: Get out of bed
Step 2: Look in the mirror
Step 3: Practice your smile
Step 4: Eyedrops to hide the red eyes
Step 5: Conceal the dark circles
Step 6: Breathe
The curtains are almost up
Step 7: Lock down the pain
Step 8: Ignore the weight on your chest
Step 9: Silence the screams inside of your mind
Step 10: Choke down the sobs
Step 11: Ignore the stinging in your eyes
Step 12: Swallow past the tightness in your throat
You’ve put on this show a million times
Step 13: Don’t let them see
Times up. Curtains up. Camera rolling
May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 12:00 AM UTC