Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Sometimes,
      I just want to write about
sad things.
  
                          Even though I´ve never been
                                                happier.
I woke up one day, in an empty bed,
even though your body laid next to mine
and I couldn't move, I tried telling myself
that I was still under sleep's spell.
.
I closed my eyes, shut them tight,
asking the skies for another try
to have the strength to keep my head straight.
.
But time stops for no one, it carries on,
and with your laboured awakening
my world, a fractioned world became
and from my heart, a vital piece fell.
.
You opened your eyes without seeing
and my body grazed without feeling,
and in a bottomless pit my soul fell.
.
With your eyes closed you sighed,
and inhaled a different air than mine.
And with your eyes, from mine,
you couldn't your reflection find.
.
Without thinking you raised from bed
and I laid there, abandoned, behind,
without a pulse that said I was alive.
.
With a heavy step I followed in your footsteps,
imitating a shadow, looking, longing,
without understanding the spontaneous rejection
suffering from the coldest involuntary exile.
.
I followed your footprints throughout the day,
watching you from afar, your posture so hard,
there wasn't a smile, a laugh in sight.
.
I couldn't understand the reason why
your gaze was so blank, distant, empty eyes.
Or why was your smile missing, you were so sad.
.
I walked with you all day, near and far,
but the blankness from your eyes stuck,
you ate without taste, without being satisfied
and drank without thirst, not knowing why.
.
I noticed the hunch in your perfect posture,
the lack of rhythm in your walk,
there wasn't music that could cheer you up.
.
I figured I wasn't the only shadow in your back,
that your heavy walk was a result of that.
I wished I had the power to free your heart,
even when my presence you decided to disregard.
.
Watching you, the world seemed slow,
the air was thick and the oxygen suffocating.
It never occurred to me that I could leave.
.
You closed the entrance door behind you
and slid down with your back pressed against it,
when you hit the floor and sat down, you cried
but when I tried to come close you dodged my touch.
.
I couldn't understand what was going on,
my soul screamed of desperation, of frustration,
I was all but begging for an explanation.
.
After a while your tears dried, you finally stood up
with your back still using the door as support
in order to give your still trembling, weak, legs
the time they needed to regain strength.
.
You took your time to fix your countenance
and looking at yourself in the mirror, you breathed,
I didn't make another attempt at approaching you.
.
At night, when it was time to finally return to bed,
it was my sweatshirt that you wore for that task,
I saw one final, lone tear sliding down your tired cheek
before you allowed yourself to surrender to sleep.
.
Walking through the hall I looked at the mirror,
and it wasn't until I couldn't find my reflection there
that I remembered I wasn't there any more
.
I couldn't keep you safe.
Peace and dirt,
break that fight,
get together out in the wild.
.
Have a drink, get up and dance,
laugh together while you can.
.
Love with all your heart.
.
Watch your friends,
enjoy life.
.
Sing a song,
play guitar,
join in the game of Life.
.
Be aware of your smiles.
.
Take a chance.
.
Scream your lungs out.
.
Use the things around you,
take your time,
but make it last.
.
Keep these memories all your life.
.
Cook something,
eat it all,
enjoy the taste while you're still here.
.
Star a fire on the beach,
go camping out in the cold breeze,
enjoy the summer all your life.
.
Sing songs,
play games,
laugh with all your friends.
.
Take love,
but give love as well.
.
Enjoy it,
it is the moment,
the moment of your lives.
The hardest part isn’t waking up
The hardest part is getting up
When you barely slept at all and your mind races
.
The difficult part is opening your eyes
When there are demons eating away your mind
When your heart is racing and your hands are shaking
.
The painful part is when the ache is too real
When its not just your mind shattering,
But your body breaking too
.
When you wheeze for air and clutch at your chest
When your hands are shaking and there’s not enough air
When the nightmares close up around you
.
But the most tiring part, the most exhausting part
Is trying to hide it all cause you’re supposed to be happy
Cause you’re not supposed to fall.
Give me enough alcohol and I'll become either
      a Poet or a Cynic.
           Maybe even both at times, although that never
                  ends up right.
                        A worded bitter will make you loathe the world
                                without your consent.
The ocean is calling,
calling for me,
he wants me to
get lost in him.
To join the white foam,
to go and say hello.
.
Nothing's here to stop me,
only the cold dry wind
of some cold and silent place
that lures me into the dark,
to some colourless scene,
to some lifeless landscape.
.
I try to run, to call out,
"I'm coming! Wait!"
But all I see is them leaving,
without me, leaving me here
on a wasted island,
by myself.
.
So I stay here,
without anyone,
waiting in the nothingness,
waiting nothing,
only the silence interrupts
all these thoughts in my mind.
.
These void and empty thoughts,
rough, cold and dry,
as the day on this island,
dark, wet and cold,
like all the nights here,
enlightened only by a dim hope.
.
That someday, someone
will come along
to take me back to the world
and end this loneliness,
erasing the memory of my time
alone here on the island of my mind.
This one has an accompanying drawing... its not too good though
Next page