“Are you okay?”

Sweetheart, I write poetry
And some kindhearted people said I write it well
…
That can only mean one thing
My mind is an unescapable hell

“Yeah, just tired”

He gave me dead flowers
So I can smell them every day
The rotten petals falling
The color of decay

The washed out sunflower
The dehydrated leaves
The mold on the water
The color of debris

The richly red rose
Now drooping to the floor
The color of love
Existed no more

But still I saved the flowers
And smelled them every day
And watered them with tears
To let them grow again.

I have a Tetris mind,
building up confidence to paint out words
-block by block
Hanging by the corners, a few nights with
an empty pen;
Current location: Writer's block

What makes a happy memory
it would end like in a melody
the waves make in the way
someplace
Cherishing moments treasury
But eventually, things end.

We have our moments
That we need some peace
And sometimes we are sad
Also when we are sad
We need somebody to cheer
Us up
We have our moments
When we feel like
Praying to God