Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Kacie Sep 2014
I was empty and you filled me, and I thought it was good like flowers growing in the cracks, but I was wrong; you were a tree that took root in the middle of my sidewalk and broke the cement apart and left me crumbling
Kacie Sep 2014
I found sitting myself in a really dark place--like a dimly lit room. An overhead light flickered on and off, and in the short seconds of light, I caught a glimpse of myself, my reflection. I didn't like what I saw, what was staring back at me. A face pale like a white crayon, like I had never had the rays of the sun dance upon the edges of my skin, eyes so worn, so tired, so...defeated. I crawled my way to the nearest wall. My fingers grazed the freezing cold tile as I climbed my way to a standing position. I stood leaning against the cold, mostly to stabilize myself, but also because the tile felt so smooth against my arms.

How did I get here in this room? I can't seem to remember, it all hit me so fast. The light flickered on and off and I stood leaning against the smooth tile and thinking about where I was. This room was so small and dark. I let my fingers drag along the tile as I slowly walked around the room. At last the smooth, cold wall turned to even more cold metal as I found myself holding into a handle. Suddenly the light flickered once more and through the door I went, and then I was falling and falling.  After that, everything went black.

When I awoke, I once again found myself in the fetal position on the ground. This time I was warm. I felt something tickle my foot and it jolted me awake. I open my eyes to discover that I am lying in a field filled with pink and white flowers that I could never identify. They were lovely and they seemed to embrace the cool breeze moving through their petals. I stand here amidst all this beauty and I feel okay for the first time. I am calm. I am happy.

Suddenly, though, the sky seemed to flicker just like that temperamental light in that cold tile room. I think to myself that it's just my mind, it's just my mind playing tricks on me. But then a loud, thunderous noise bellows throughout the field, sending a ****** of large, black crows into my direction. The beautiful, blue sky instantly filled itself with clouds like dark, black smoke in a small confined space. A strong wind forces it's way against the flowers and as each flower is touched, it wilts, turning the most awful shade of gray I had ever seen. The entire field went dead and I stand in the center trying to take in what happened. Everything was fine just a minute ago. The sky flickers and again my vision turns black and I wake up and I am back in that cold, the room, laying on my side. The door is there, within my view, and I lay there, staring.
This poem is how I viewed my depression for a long time. I felt as though I started in a strange, confusing place, and when I stepped into happiness, it was only brief, ruined by that dark sadness that I carried with me.
Kacie Sep 2014
The clouds moved in suddenly, strangely, and they sat there, suspended by strings. Oh how I wanted to climb a ladder up high and sit myself upon one of them and forget everything that ever happened. Maybe, just maybe, my body could be taken in by the clouds and I could sink deep down into the sky where no one would ever think to look for me. I would make friends with the stars that come out at night because I know they're already dead, they won't bother me. I'd use the crescent moon as my bed and I would sleep away the rest of my years quietly and contently. I would be at peace, as a child of the sky, and I would never again set foot on ground.
Kacie Apr 2014
I was lonely
without my loneliness,
and that made
every bit
of sense
to me.
Kacie Apr 2014
It had been a whole 16 hours,
Since their 2am fight.
She stood in the parking garage,
resting herself against the edge.
From behind her, the noise escalated:
heel to pavement, heel to pavement.
It grew louder and louder,
coming toward her,
but she didn’t turn to face it.
She stared straight,
and fixated her eyes on something, anything.
A blue light, off in the distance.
She kept staring and dared not to look;
she didn’t want to ruin the moment
of him reaching his arms around her waist
and resting his chin
in the empty space around her shoulders.
So she stared at the blue light,
And the footsteps grew closer
and closer,
and her body readied itself,
but they suddenly passed her up,
and she realized,
it wasn’t like all the other times.
He wasn’t coming this time.
and even though the space around her shoulders stayed empty,
the air suddenly became very heavy.
  Apr 2014 Kacie
"I wish you well."

                                         ­                                     (but not too well without me)
I like 10 word poems because it forces you to summarize your thoughts  to the point where you're really only saying what you mean.
Maybe I should try using that same theory in my own life, haha.
Kacie Apr 2014
The sunlight gleamed through the window, shining on the dust particles. They seemed to float through the air as if they were tiny little dancers . I heard my mother sigh, and as I turned, she pulled a giant trunk from the corner of the attic. “This belonged to your great-great-grandmother,” she told me. “You probably don’t remember much about her.” I walked through the dust, breathing in everything that was bad for me, but I was smiling. I knew they were dancing in my lungs. She was right, I didn’t remember her at all; I was only a few months old when she passed. “Can we open it?” I had already begun pulling at the latches. The trunk swung open, and more of those tiny dancers joined their friends. Inside, there were mostly old clothes and a few trinkets. I pulled out a scarf. It was the same color a young child has on her cheeks when her schoolgirl crush pulls at her hair. Something deep inside of me yearned to examine every inch of it. As I carefully unwrapped it, a small book fell out. I reached down to pick it up. I thumbed the pages, and flipped to a random page. I held my breathe as my eyes clung onto every word.  

June 16th, 1856:
His eyes were so blue. So, so blue,
as blue as the ocean he dreamt of crossing.
The ocean that would separate us if he ever got his way.
He told me he loved me, but there was so much more out there
than this small Louisiana town.
There were mountains and oceans,
and so many new places being discovered,
and he couldn’t bare the thought
of never touching snow.
There was opportunity,
and a chance for him to become someone.
There was a ship leaving tomorrow,
he said softly; He knew those words broke me.
He told me he wanted to see the world,
and he wondered why I didn’t want the same.
I told him it was simple,
I was already looking at it.

I flipped to the next page, but it was blank.
Next page