Like a painter with a fresh canvas
Oils waiting and brushes ready
A writer uses words to convey,
The feeling of a spring day and the heartache of a lover gone away.
Stripping the feeling to write what is overflowing inside,
A writer writes.
On a later day if they chance upon their work they read what once was said
An emptier version of themselves now that the feelings are dead,
The words are hollow until they read the stains,
What wasn't said and left for imagination's sake.
To write and never know if you'll feel the same,
A hollow pursuit to tether a writer in place.
A reader becomes what the writer said and more importantly didn't say
They feel as the writer once did,
Passively undertaking words from another's heart.
A writer dies a little in each write but come the day when the body goes,
They come to life.

If you could take it all away,
Would you?
Every regret and hurtful thing?

I look at them some days,
Finding them disgusting in every way,
But if I wash them away,
Scrub the pain till it's raw and fades,
I find myself staring at an empty space.
A bitter thing to find,
That your suffering was by design.
Leaving no choice but to make a place,
Build some sturdy shelves
And embrace the pain.

It makes you whole,
Defining you in little lines
Of how you love or hate,
If you can lose or find peace in simple things.
I'd keep them all,
Every hurtful thing.
Fill my shelves
So someday I can count how many times I fell to my knees,
A library of my deceit.
Written in books I'll feel complete,
That my life was a challenge and not once did I give up on the journey.

Turn halfway
You can't escape
An omen of yesterday
I've come today
To warn you it's past late
Turn around
Watch them struggle
An omen for today
I've come to say,
Death is coming clear the way.

Unhappy with what I write
So I delete every line
And sit down and sigh
My mind is restless and tortures me
It's always been this way
Since I was a girl with too much imagination and odd things on my mind.
Writing is my release
It's the cure for my disease
But with every word I feed this thing
It consumes me with every heart beat.
My mind disturbs me at night
As I wander down this lonely path
Astray in a dark wood,
Seeing Dante's steps to my left.
I write,
For myself but I hope one day
These words will find you,
You seekers, dreamers and travelers from far away
My words are for you.
These stories must leave me some day
I bid you adieu and hope for a better day,
When my words will satisfy me and perhaps find their way to you.

Speak to me my love
In dreams and memories
Always in my breath no matter the divide
A grace on my lips
In summer's daze and winter's grip
A field of grass reaching to my knees
And waves of the seas rocking me
A feeling so serene
I'll remember the timeless melody
Through time and sleeves
Speak to me my love
For yesterday and tomorrow
I'll see you when I've run this journey complete.

The poet's day is after we've gone away,
Our words left to read
By the hurt and strayed.
A little map of words
Guiding you through the darkest day.
Saying someone else once felt this way,
And no matter how much time passes
When someone turns to us with utter dismay,
We offer our hearts for all to see
And remind you of an old adage,
Nothing new under the sun.
As poets we write so when we go away
A little piece of us will stay,
To share your pain and express joy in all you do.

I like you, I really do
I don't love you yet
Maybe some day I'll say that too
For now take it slow
Because my rivers run deep and are full
I locked them away a while ago
It'll take some time and proof
For me to let them run through.
I'm learning how to love again
Please be patient.
This is the only time I'll say sorry,
For this person I have become.
Easy darling this path is treacherous
But the destination is worthy of you.

Hallowed wind
The storm begins
The windows creak
The timbers moan
As this house shelters alone.
Clouds blowing in,
Wintry snow falls slow
Waiting for the storm to blow.
Shaking the trees
Dusting the peaks.
Windy nights
Wrestles snow from its clouded home.

I shouldn't walk away
But it's tempting,
The burden doesn't seem worth the weight
How do I escape?
This cycle of my hate
Idealistic till my dying day
If only I could find passion for my life
It may be worth the wait.

I've walked this land
Those streets you see
I've been that way
Those mountains up high
I've roamed the trees
I keep moving
A traveler of this life
Seeking my way
I've taken many roads
But often not the easy way
It's not in my nature you see
I welcome those who journey with me
Whether for part or the whole way
Stay if you please or feel free to leave
It'll be quiet most of the way
For a single day or a life you see
I'll be walking this land
Until the end of days.

I wonder if the breeze moved slow
Would I know?
If the breath were stuck in my throat
Would I see my life flash before my eyes?
If you were to shout my name,
Would I hear your call?
If I died,
Would I know I wondered all these things?

Wish I could say it's been easy,
Some say it's been a long time coming.
Now I'm here and all I can do is stand,
Looking out to a horizon of emptiness.
An endless sea brushing against me,
Once it thrashed me against the rocks
I learned not to care.
It's been a long time
And this place seems like nowhere.
I've come this far on will alone,
Now I stand at the edge,
Watching my life go
Looking for a glimpse of hope
That I'm alright despite what's told.

I’ve never smoked a day in my life
But today I could breathe that fire one time.
Don’t care about looking cool,
Those aspirations are long in the review mirror.

They say grief is a sacred giver,
But today its hung up its visitor sign
And its settling in.

One breath of fire,
Isn’t going to solve a thing,
But it might make the ache spread.
Make my lungs feel like one exhale,
Could blow it all away.

They say grief fades with time,
But today the future doesn’t mean a **** thing.
Hang the noose of hope round my neck,
I’ll wait this out one day at a time.

It’s quiet now,
In my mind the smoke rises above me,
A memory of what I thought would be.
Come to me sacred grief,
I’ve got no light but I’ll pretend,
That I could smoke this grief into yesterday.