I was reading over your poetry,
again.
Like somehow, if I repeat it
enough times
you would come back
and I would find myself
in your words
again.

if it wasn’t you,
my eyes could be your usual blue.
instead they pour,
more than an ocean could ever hold.
if you only could be told.
maybe then i wouldn’t be such a mess.
something one could never never access.
a mind full of dream,
you’ve seem to put there too
if it wasn’t you.

a.b.

I don't think about it any more
I take out the trash
noting
Sticks caught in the crotch of a tree
The wind does what the wind does
breaks weaker branches down
does not care where
it leaves
them
on its invisible way

Days do what the days do
they don't count themselves
worthy as they go
to release
the afternoon
to evening—
an artless
emptying
to a low spot
where tears tend to pool
if I'd let them down

“You know,
in that low spot
out there...?”
Where it's hard to see
Where its hard to care?

They take heart
out
divide it by energy
for sadness—
I haven't got

Watched the clock go round
wipe out my little plans
with relentless hands

...and I never got dressed today

Ah, her
I'll spare her name for the sake of mystery
But this feeling that is stirred up is quite real
I'm pretty shook, I can't deal

Where do I start?
Her eyes, of course
Eyes as calming as the ocean tides
They pull at mine, drawing me in
Making me want to be by her side
Dark brown, making me melt like brownies

Hair like fire
Beautifully gleaming in the sunset
Wavy curls, waving at my heart
Capturing me in a trance
Oh, she makes me want to dance

That smile
More beautiful than the Nile
Her laugh is a soothing melody
Kissing her lips seems to be my remedy

Oh how I wish I could with her
To show her how much she is worth
Worth more than what she's been told
By both young and old
Worth more than how men look at her

She is a precious keepsake
A woman to cherish
One to take to the lake
And listen to her favorite songs

Her whole being is a song
A sweet melody that lifts my spirits
All day long
her.

That moment,
That dread-filled instant you feel everything slip away.

Hope, Lost.
Strength, Gone

Suddenly you feel useless and hated by everyone, inexplicably.

Just in that moment, Everything changes.

This,
Is Depression.

That moment,
We feel the earth shatter beneath us and we fall and all we feel is,
"Please, not now. Not again."

Our eyes flush with black and we let go,
And we fall, again.

In that moment,
We leave ourselves behind,
We wave goodbye to our minds,
That we hope to see again, soon.

This,
Is Depression...

Not a moment later our arms and legs turn to stone,
Our hearts fill with lead.

An intangible yet truly powerful pain consumes us as we fall,
again.

And we cry,
Inside or out,
Sometimes both.

This,
Is not who we are.

This is our disease.
This is not Us.

We are the strongest people on this planet.
Because, we battle a war that only we can feel,
And yeah, some of us don't make it.

This is our disease.
But...

My friends,
It is not terminal,
This is not who we are.

Let's stand up and make one more day, just in case,
We'll find love in the smallest things,
In just the simplest gesture,
A thank you,
Or a hug,
Will make our day.

To those who don't give up on us when we give up on ourselves,
Thank you.

This, ❤
Is Us.

~Robert van Lingen