My emotions are a pallet of monotone colors,
so I paint my world in Gray's and Black's,
longing for something more,
but not knowing any other colors,
than those dull
shades
of
beige.

We used to climb through
the broken fence and
visit the ancient
Ash tree that
stood, splendid
and solidatary

we would wrap our arms
around it, our fingers
far from touching

in our minds we would
disect the trunk and
count the rings, ageless
it was, beyond
number

we would sit
beneath it’s branches,
that reached out like
arms, hands desperate
to be held

it’s leaves would fall
in autumn, we would kick
their red and orange
offerings, disrespectful
as to where they
had come from

I still go to to it,
sometimes, I still
listen for it’s song

but it is dead
and quiet

without her

we become stories,
i've never had a first love;
but i've ******,
had one night stands
and morning goodbye's
told myself love is chemical
love fades and never comes back.

Love's a reaction,
at the right or wrong time;
we lie, we lay next to our selves, we seek
to feel a hole in, to make ourselve fill
in a mold that everyone's talked about
but;
what is love but imperfect.
Filled with some lies, with some hatred
with some humanity.

I love,
but I'll never be whole
and never a hole;
I'm complete yet
wanting to be less lonely.

Where do I begin? I'm lost. So much is personal you see. I had apps and apps full of feelings, moods, poems, my stories and goings on saved onto my device. Now these apps suddenly disappeared, so I downloaded them only to discover they won't reappear! I don't understand, I can't comprehend. I didn't memorize all of those months in some and years in others to recall so I can't just rewrite. Sure instead I could've used paper & pen & locked them away from peering eyes elsewhere but guess what notebooks on top of of notebooks from all my years also to did the act of a disappear. Yes, burned in my house fire with most of my prized possessions that were photos of some but the photos that meant the most were the photos of a man that loved me most and loved me more than any other could, my dad. My dad the man that died & left me to a cruel family that could only hate... only hate me that is. I was so little when he died and I never understood why I wasn't allowed to take that ride to death... with him. Anyone reading this by chance, do you know how I can get the content in those apps back? If I write the things I wrote there esp of recent events then you'd think it's an improper way to vent not being in poetic form and such. It's pretty weird, different and personal too, but my wounds are deep and writing them gave some relief. Now they've disappeared.
No poetry here, just asking for help that'd be much appreciated. Thanks and blessings.

in the mist
of the seas,
the water brushes
against her toes,
sun bellows down
to night sky
and she stays
as water goes...

quartz so divine
and shimmering bright
and it will always be fine
like a magical light
with a structure so pure
and brilliant allure.
A rock of great might
and it will always outshine.