Life they say
is just a roll of the dice
which depends on fate
that listens
to every word
you don't say

I miss my mum
She's not dead
She's just holed up in work instead

No complaints
No regrets
But I know she hates this life when she scratches her head

I miss my mum
She's in the next room

Wanting to be free
But she doesn't leave
Because she misses me too

i’m tired of writing these poems
tired of chasing the right words
for a feeling that never wanted to be named

tired that nothing i write
comes close to the way it felt
to love you
and lose you
and still carry it all

no stanza, no line,
no late night whisper into the void
has ever been enough

the love i have for you
deserves more than language
and yet
language is all i have

bandaids on my wrist.
i wish they worked.
i wish i did.

Sometimes I'm sick
Emptying my feelings
Into the pipes they go
Just to resurface later
To haunt me again

Sunlight kisses
Morning dew
Shadows stretch
Whispers through blue

Raindrops linger
Branches sway
Insects hum
Time slips away

Footsteps echo
Dreams fade
Gravel cracks
Night hugs shade

Hearts wilt
Eyes close
Memory stays
Silence softly flows