Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Justin Phipps Jan 30
It used to be
that I would see
you inside my dreams.
My eyes were closed
and you were there
how I wanted you to be.
My eyes wide open
you were there
looking back
with love
for me.

Now the only way
to see your face
is to return to my dreams.

My eyes wide open
all I see
is what is left
of me.
Justin Phipps Dec 2019
With more knowledge and
understanding.
Comes more compassion and
pain.
It is our flaw and our
power.
We love and we
hate.

I wish I could go
numb,
to rid of this feeling of
being
so
human.
Justin Phipps Dec 2019
I want to go home
and sit
looking out the window
at the dark street
and the lonely lamp light.

Few people pass by
eyes forward
or to the ground.
I wonder if they feel
alone.

They are my friends,
I think.
But they don't know my
name, or even that
I am here.

They are my friends
though.
Woman in the purple jacket,
man in the black hat,
walking down my street.

I pretend to know them
and take two sips of beer.
One for me and
one for them.
I call the man Jack.
Justin Phipps Dec 2019
I'm successful enough
to have decent clothes
to rescue a dog
to have a place
to sleep

A decent enough car
and a garage for it
and a sink
and a fridge
and beer

A woman's love
Is what I miss
Is what I want
Is what I wish
I had

The pain I feel
from loneliness
from loving you
from behind the pane of
glass
Justin Phipps Dec 2019
Have you ever just
laid
on the floor,
staring
at the ceiling?

No thoughts, not a single
movement.
Unable to do anything but
lay
there?

There are screws to turn,
and the dishes pile
up-
and the things you need to do
remain.

Eyes hurt and your cheeks
too,
and the back of your throat
feels like
gravel

and
you
just
lay
there
Justin Phipps Dec 2019
Another day.
Another ****
day.
Go here,
do this,
get that.

Go home,
eat dinner,
pet the dog,
scratch the cat.

The pain
is in
between.

Between the this and
the that.
The darkness comes,
and takes everything
back.
Justin Phipps Dec 2019
Breathing in,
and letting go.
My breath fogs up the window.

A lone stick man,
drawn inside.
No one else at his side.

A child smiles,
beyond the glass.
My gaze here cannot last.

The cold air,
oh how it burns.
I long to be eaten by the worms.
Next page