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I sit and wait for some sort of miracle.
But nothing ever comes.

And, I've gotten used to being alone.
Passing the time between here and.
Eternity.
Motionless.
Agape at an absurd universe that taunts me.
With lies of success.

Tomorrow.
Tomorrow is always fixed in my mind as some antediluvian.
Memory I don't have.
Tomorrow.
Where I'll fix what's wrong with me.
Do the things I talk about.

But, not today.
Never today.
Today is for the nostalgia of coulda done better.
She sings syllogisms.
That no one knows.
But her, the wind, and my imagination.
Where she's beautiful.
Frozen in a good memory.

A lovely smile.

And.
Here I am.
Reading metaphors and analogies.
From her sweet lips.
I've lost all the eloquence.
I had when I was young.
And now I express myself.
In grunts and moans.
And ugly things.

And it's far too late for teenage angst.

So
Why do I still feel this way.
So unconnected and discombobulated.
Fumbling through my words.
I'm at a loss for words.
Whether what I say is important.

Or some idle.
Threat.

To punish.

No one.
But.
Myself.
i used to spend my days
pouring myself
into the cups of others

only to find
that when it was time
for myself to take a sip

all that was left
in my cup
was the remainder of a girl
who gave

too much
in soft hours when your heart’s
awake dreaming
and you feel a soft whisper
gently tracing
your skin, your spine to your soul
that’s me loving
you
To the one I used to love, used to need:
You never
text
me.
It's like you
moved
on
the second I was
gone.
As for me, I've been
S T U C K
in the memories.
I can't not
think
of
you.
But I think I
may
be
moving
on.
Wrote this years ago haha not current just deep
On the outside
I see
Less
Than others

But beyond physical sight
They are the blind ones
Thought I had while enduring the quiet humiliation of an eye exam :)
seems there may be some connection
some call it a trigger.


some things leave us cold and wondering
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