Sometimes I feel
God’s hand
Around my heart,
knowing
He the only reason
It continues
beating.
Every pulse that
Shudders through me,
Is the pressure of
His love,
His hand pumping
my blood
With His enduring
plan for me.

I do not feel alive.
I feel like a cardboard
Cutout that kids push
Their heads through,
Smiling brightly as
Their parents snap
A photo.

progress only feels like
the past i am giving
up on

when you left
you took the color with you,
and now the world
is like an old television set,
with muffled sound
that grates the ears,
and a picture
that cuts in and out,
filled with static,
in brilliant black and white,
that's made more of shades of gray.
did your world get more vibrant,
when you de-saturated mine?
or did the color
disappear entirely;
slipping out of your fingers
to be consumed
by the void
where my heart
once lived

Contributed by @the.poetic.gatsby
On Instagram, Threads and TikTok

Her steps were measured,
As if she counted each one,
Filling a quota.

Not too much, not too little,
She could not be too humble,
Nor ambitious.

But she could also not be too
Small and indifferent, or else
She would fail.