That feeling when you aren't really sad
but you just feel really empty.
when they ask "how are you doing"
but really mean are you over it
when you have heard the line
''just doing it for attention''
When you just don't feel good enough
no matter how hard you try
me too .

When a tweet, no longer comes from a bird.
A message, no longer written in words.
A picture, determines your current worth.
A swipe, is not for payments against earns.

Your world, no longer restricted to earth.
Your voice, can control your universe.
Games, without company, a box.
Books, used to be written, forgot.

Love was in letters, not characters.
Eyes looked straight, not down.
Communication, in touch were sound.
Reactions, were not button frowns.

Food shared, not delivered.
Noise surrounded, not muted.
Hands shaken, not email awaken.
The world was claimed, but not hidden.

An automated world,
not an automated me.

The moment you forget.
Mind wanders with regret.
Eyes blurred, lose focus.
“What’s my current purpose?”

Is spontaneous enough?
Chasing a dream, tough.
As a child we rushed,
what was all the fuss?

The lost moment finds.
The lost moment unwinds.
The lost moment reminds.
Messes with our minds.

In that moment there is clarity.
We connect with our reality.
Understand humanity.
Endless possibilities.
Test our comfortability.

A chance to breathe.
Rebirth and see.
Are we where
we want to be?

Take that lost moment,
to reset your focus.
To find yourself and
your new found purpose.

As I Sit beside this lonely tree
I count my blessings one, two, three
Looking up to into the branches
I Close my eyes and think about my chances
For a moment a glimmer of light
Perhaps I can have what I want in sight
Dark clouds loom in the background beginning to spiral around
Rain begins to fall
But the tree still stands tall
What it would be like to be this tree
To stand there so strong and free

You can hurt someone while loving them.
Just like you can crinkle sheets by hugging them.
You can apologize, yet never change.
Like washing sheets to crinkle them again.

- p. winter

For if I told you that I love you
Anywhere but my poetry
It would give you the power
To walk away.
So for now I will write
'Til the pen falls from my hand.
Never not loving you
And never not denying it.

- p. winter