mjsheppard
American
I write poetry as a hobby and as a way to express feelings. This is a small escape. This is where I don't conform to society, and in a little world of black and white, I write the words of my soul. / / I'm a little opinionated with a strong personality and a very independent mind. This just a little corner of heaven, where I seem to complain and whine.
her hair was ink
cascading her shoulders;
reflecting blue skies
of late winter.
and we sat stationary,
speaking foreign languages
and i realized i don’t even know her name.
Mar 19, 2016
Mar 19, 2016 at 10:21 PM UTC
you are a light in my life
like no other.
sometimes the morning sky
doesn’t always light up
in the winter months.
but you break through the fog.
you always have.
|m.s.
Mar 19, 2016
Mar 19, 2016 at 10:20 PM UTC
my chest hurt with the feeling of spring,
and i wept melting ice.
and from beneath the surface
came glowing sunlight
that startled even the darkest parts of me.
Mar 19, 2016
Mar 19, 2016 at 10:20 PM UTC
i don't make my computer
remember how to spell your name.
because therefore you are permanent.
and i know very well that you are not.
|m.s.
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 9:39 PM UTC
i've always wondered one thing:
"Why is there a space between good morning, and not goodnight?"
this may be solely due to how i write it,
but i'm moved to believe that there is no space
due to the unneeded grey area and empty space about the word.
i'm moved to believe that there is a lack of a space in goodnight
is due to the exhaustion we feel at the end of the day and night.
and we don't take anymore time to have hesitation.
it's "goodnight."
there are no doubts about this.
it may just be me,
but the English language is malicious.
but in the moments you call "Goodnight!" to someone in the dark,
separated by the distance and night chill of the beginning spring---
i'm moved to believe that the lack of a space isn't needed
because there is no grey area
in which to call: "Goodnight!" out to someone.
there is only the hope that we will wake up again to see the sun,
greeting with "Good Morning,"
and a space to sigh with relief.
|m.s.
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 7:45 PM UTC
i felt your eyes
across the room.
you were a perfect storm,
contained
within a dress shirt, and vest.
you were the epitome
of a monday morning
in the middle of winter,
your eyes spoke of
harsh cold, and windchill,
not quite ready
to emerge and go back to people.
but only i know how much you crave interaction.
you just avoid it from me.
|m.s.
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 9:59 PM UTC
i used to dream of flying,
soaring through the air.
i used to dream of flying,
when i was young,
interested in happier times.
then the dreams used to be of flying,
but then i could no longer speak.
and even after that i began to run,
chased by things i have been avoiding,
running from ideas that could break me.
then within my dreams, i began to fall.
and then i dreamt of death.
i no longer fly,
i am merely wordless, running,
falling.
|m.s.
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 9:49 PM UTC
on this break i've designated one thing.
to steer clear of you,
to remove you from me:
my soul, my essence.
twenty one days
is the amount of time needed to break a habit.
this break is less than that
sitting at a fourteen
enough for me to sit the night before we return
chewing my fingernails on if you'll be there in the morning
if you'll be safe, healthy,
alive.
a lot can happen in fourteen days
and it's awful for me to sit and think.
so far i've done a very good job keeping you out of my thoughts.
out of my conversations.
the only time you've come up
was that a few days into this break
i saw you
and blast it
my whole body heat up like fire
i felt my skin get clammy and hot
i felt conflicting emotions.
but one thing stood clear:
i want to be done with you.
now.
i have no time
for this beating around the bush ********
i'm sick an tired of crying over your bipolar personality
being a friend one and a foe the next
you even know that i feel for you.
i've dreamt to hold your hand
and lie beside you and watch the sky be born
and grow old,
fading into black to count the stars.
i've wished for you
on lost pennies, four 1's--two 11's on a clock,
on stars, on birthday candles, crossed fingers, christmas lists.
i've written countless poems
expressing all my anguish and excitement.
god you bring out the worst in me, but also the best.
i'm so patient with you, but jealous towards others.
i wish you knew what you did to me.
i wish you knew what you did to me over
the fact that i feel for you,
over petty feelings that i'm ready to be over of,
that i've wasted a year and a half on.
twenty one days breaks a habit.
fourteen isn't quite enough,
but i'll take it.
tonight is the first time i've actually thought about you.
and this poem of promise
speaking of freedom from feeling so awful all the time,
sounds lovely.
i'm sorry to have inconvenienced you
for a year and a half
over feelings i should of put out immediately.
but fire spreads rapidly, my dear.
and i have a low tolerance of heat.
|m.s.
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 1:54 AM UTC
today, i couldn't remember a word
a certain phrase or idea.
it sat upon the tip of my tongue
and i, frustrated
thought extensively for it.
you, my dear
were standing beside me
you told me to take my mind off of it
"think of something completely different."
i thought of kissing you.
|m.s.
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 12:39 AM UTC