It is almost refreshing to sink into what I once was
To feel myself stagnate and lose interest
It's somehow relieving to meet my old feelings again
To feel both exhausted and restless

I am not doing enough yet, have not achieved
I am not trying hard enough, haven't put in my all
I am not reaching far enough, am not throwing my weight
I am not enough to climb over this wall

A wall between myself and motivation
Between creativity and creative endeavors
Between myself and my dreams and wants and hopes
A wall between stagnation and corrective measures

It feels like coming home to a house I never intended to buy
Like opening the door to dust and checks to pay off bills I forgot to write
Like finding my bed a collection of moths and holes
Like seeing where I was and intended to be until I was old

However

It is also like entering an old home never put up for sale
A space that I know but a space I dislike and won't return to as well
Like feeling the nostalgia from a bitter memory in some bastardization of regret
But moving on because you have moved on and don't plan on turning back yet

This is hell, gouge out my eyes and rip off my head
Collect my brain and tear it to shreds
Douse me in ice cold water, sweet, sweet relief
This ******* migraine will be the death of me.

Sometimes I forget that things don't go as planned
I meddle and I **** with no thought to consequence
I see a fix and grab it without checking all the facts
I forget reason, people, and, most importantly, to ask.

I love you, I want to see you happy and fulfilled
I'd rather cart you on my back than let you climb your own hills
I push and shove and rush though the problem isn't mine
And, just like that, I go too far at times.

I'm at a loss on how to talk this out when there is no conversation
I've never wanted or managed to make you lose your patience
You tolerate my intolerable **** with a smile and a laugh
Which isn't an invitation to intensify, I will remember that.

I don't understand the situation or your feelings towards it
But I saw an opportunity and, immediately, I bit
And somethings are in honest better left to themselves
So I won't **** and mettle in your relationship with someone else.

I'd like to say this; however, because I can't say it enough
I'm sorry, I was wrong, I'm so sorry I broke your trust
And this anger is a first, and a last hopefully
So, again, I'm sorry, please forgive me.

i am in an odd mood
more down than i've been in awhile
and i want to reach out to poetry as the tried and true outlet
but

my pen won't write, the inkwell's dry, the paper's blank, my mind is fried.
a sentence too long, a nonexistent rhyme, a mixture of words without a beat or time.
i've forgotten my words, they're all left behind, i've received apathy in exchange for my four four time.
and i'd ask for help, i would, i swear, but the words all stick in my throat.
before i can voice a single concern it's been buried on the wayside of the road.

so here i am with this ****-poor ditty and thoughts that plague my night
and the only excuse i can give for them both is that i cannot ******* write

Sitting on my own but not necessarily alone
My mind roams and eats me down to blood and bones.
With eyes watery and wet though no tears have fallen yet
I set my jaw against the first tinglings of regret.

If I am hurting it will fade, without assistance from a blade
Box the guilt carefully away and place it back from where it came.
If I am unsteady I will find balance without a plea
And rely on no one but myself to help right me.

Sitting with memories and regrets and possibilities
Sitting with the jealousy and shame and the whole of me.
Making temporary peace with the little things if only to sleep
In full awareness that they still creep where my thoughts run deep.

I miss you constantly
You are just beside me
Some thousands of miles
Of seas and skies away.

It is baffling that I could share the same sun
Admire the same moon, as you might feel inclined to do
And somehow be too far to ever count it
As sharing the same space.

I see all of who you've shown me you are
And I package you in precious pieces
That I hide in my limbic system
And scatter through my striatum.

When it rains, I can't help but wonder
If these little droplets were ever closer to you than me
And I hate and love them in a single instant
Until I can hear and see and love you again.

I miss you with an intensity that scares me,
Considering I have yet to meet you,
And every second closer I am to seeing you
The lump in my throat grows impossibly larger.

I am closer to you when I speak of you
Face lit in an involuntary, irremovable, lovesick smile
The people who asked must regret it terribly
But, as a sap in love, I tell them anyway.

I occasionally regret ever buying the plane ticket
I constantly regret buying the plane ticket
To meet you would be the greatest joy
And infinitely more so my greatest nightmare.

Why would I give myself temporary relief?
I will see you and hold you and split my face smiling
And then I will leave you and miss you ten times more.
I am willingly subjecting myself to this.

I will miss you more than I do.
It will hurt, come good or bad,
It will feel worse than most things
It will feel better than most things.

It will feel like liberation, like knowing the grand prize
It will feel like drowning, slowly, agonizingly
It will feel like the rush of falling from a height
It will feel like the instantaneous pain of hitting the ground.

I miss you constantly.
You are just beside me
Unthinkably far, impossibly close
Within my thoughts.

So this is life; so this is what you run to and fro for.
So this is living, I always expected it to be so much more.
I am not unhappy. Empty, yes, but contentedly so.
I do not need saving. I'm my own angel, my own prize to show.

And this is love; both effortless and challenging, daily.
And this is work, my most and least favorite activity.
I am not stagnant. I have watered myself and now I grow.
I do not need pity. I have latched to it long enough to let go.

So this is honesty; terrifyingly vulnerable and strong.
This is maturity, dearly coveted right but often done wrong.
I am not young. I am six hundred million excruciating seconds old.
I do not need fear. I am apologetically alive, loud, and bold.

So these are all the things I never intended to see
All the things I never knew what the outcome of would be.
So these are all the things I never wanted to experience
All the reasons I was sure I wasn't meant to exist.