Sometimes I read my poems back
And I try to relive the pain. The emotions. The heartbreak.
Everything I felt when pouring my heart out on my screen.
A screen that knows no judgement. Takes no sides. Has no relation. Seeks no attention. Has no ulterior motive.
But I never succeed.
The way I felt when writing those pieces are locked in the words I typed.
Sealed with the tears that ran down my cheeks.
Never to be felt again. By anyone.
Especially the one that made it in the first place.
Let them feel what you feel when it seems they are never feeling it
That moment when they show you exactly what your feelings was trying to make you feel
Is the moment you need to realize how loud their actions were not speaking.
New year, better me.
New year, new goals.
New year, no negativity.
New year, more growth.
“New year, new me.”
New year, new Y O U.
Jack of many trades
Lover to the unlovable.
Who had and has
Who does and continues to do
Who learns and teaches
Gives more than required
Expects nothing in return.
Materfamilias to many
None to “its” own.
— The End —