I loved a poem I read today, the next one not so well, eyes stuck as I kept on reading for hours, one told of love, as the other about hate, another spoke of suicide the next their life was great.
Writing is so powerful, it speaks about our life. Be it good or bad or sad or happy, writing sets you free, freedom to express freedom to speak without being interrupted, freedom to be real or to pretend, writing is simply expressing yourself of how you are or long to be .
© kimmied 1105

hello! it's been so long
it's been so long since you
talked to me like this
like this we were whispering
in each other's ears like
not even the august leaves
could have part in our affair
not even the august leaves
could know what we were
it's such a shame isn't it?
isn't it? that those leaves,
drifting down so sadly,
became september leaves
september leaves that knew
only the tears that we shed
the tears that we shed
and now the april leaves will
never know who we were
never know who you were
never know who i was
just who you and i are now
it's been so long since you
talked to me like this i almost
remembered how much i missed you

She can’t tell who will leave
and who will stay.
Instead she chooses
To push them all away.

Being vulnerable
Is her greatest fear.
Her heart is too guarded
To let someone near.

So scared to be loved
Afraid to trust.
If she is broken again
She may crumble to dust.

I’m sorry.
My beautiful stanzas,
For not keeping in touch with you.
Somewhere along the way
I abandoned you.
And never wrote back.

I’m sorry.
My sweet verses
I have not forgotten you.
I have only forgotten the feelings in you.
And my heart can't bear to remember.

I’m sorry.
Meaningless Haikus.
I thought I could make some sense out of you.
But I will always be a few words away
from finishing you.

I’m sorry.
Untitled works.
You are amazing.
But I couldn’t give you what you deserved.
I left you raw.
Unpolished.
Unfinished.

I’m sorry.
That I scroll past you.
That I am to forgetful to finish you.
But to proud to erase you.

I’m sorry.
That while you remain
unfinished and unpublished.
I continue giving birth to
New works and
New ideas.

I will finish you one day.
Not today.
Not now.
But someday.
And until that day,

I’m so sorry.

silly boy,
you were there for her through everything.
through the breakup, through the boys,
through her consuming void.
you consoled her, called her beautiful, was a friend
when the world and everyone else had turned their backs.
but now you want more.
silly boy,
don't get greedy.
she is a loose cannon, a feather floating in the wind.
she cannot be tied down, so
don't try.
silly boy,
i know you're hurting.
you're in need of somebody to love.
silly boy,
she can't fall in love with you
when she hasn't fallen in love with her self first.