i filled my notebooks with your words,
my canvases with your spirit
you're in my soul, my heart, my being
you eternally inspire me.
you may be gone,
but i still have you.
a funny thing
yet so promising
is but a paperweight
atop a dresser
meant as a promise:
you wouldn't make
the same mistake
yet it sits,
pearls won't fix
how my heart aches
was never really there
one of the best ways to heal is to write about it and move on.
a word that is applied to all,
holds no true value with its use.
it is only overused.
I keep my feelings on a leash,
locked in a cage like the perpetrators of crime.
Sometimes I take them out for walks
to test out their rarely used legs on the ground.
Only too reel them back in,
too scared to let them wander,
wander towards those who let theirs loose freely,
not caring where they step.
For I have learned that this only leads to hurt.
Stubbed toes on the curbsides called love.
Failed attempts at crossing the crosswalk,
into the depths of someones shallow, unforgiving arms.
Not paying attention to the Stop sign right next to them.
Over and over, I wish I would've noticed that sign sooner..
Before all the heartbreaks and fallen tears.
And that is why
the footwork of my heart, kept captive in the dark,
is sleeping in silence for perhaps eternity
this is the poem I used to apply for this community. not my best work, but still, I thought I should share.
— The End —