Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
I am living on my own I am better suited in a community I haven’t had reason to use my voice Since she stopped talking to me On sunny days I go out Hoping someone will talk to me Even if it’s just, “What the hell are you looking at?” Staring is awkward But I could say, “I see you,” Like when we play peek-a-boo With infants Before we forgot what laughter Was supposed to sound like Now laughter sounds like my voice Silence. I just want to answer a question Which wasn’t posed by myself Remember the line about "We were all meant to shine Like children do, Because the glory of God is in each of us?" Well sometimes I think The glory of God Looks too much like Seattle in springtime Overcast and drizzly His glory is in us But we don’t let it out Because of how scared we are Of seeing ourselves in the light Mistakes are masked In the dust and darkness Our broken-heart pieces are stored On shelves high out of reach Childish hopes and dreams Have long since given up Trying to believe They will ever learn to walk
0
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
Solitude, Almost Serendipity
I am living on my own I am better suited in a community I haven’t had reason to use my voice Since she stopped talking to me On sunny days I go out Hoping someone will talk to me Even if it’s just, “What the hell are you looking at?” Staring is awkward But I could say, “I see you,” Like when we play peek-a-boo With infants Before we forgot what laughter Was supposed to sound like Now laughter sounds like my voice Silence. I just want to answer a question Which wasn’t posed by myself Remember the line about "We were all meant to shine Like children do, Because the glory of God is in each of us?" Well sometimes I think The glory of God Looks too much like Seattle in springtime Overcast and drizzly His glory is in us But we don’t let it out Because of how scared we are Of seeing ourselves in the light Mistakes are masked In the dust and darkness Our broken-heart pieces are stored On shelves high out of reach Childish hopes and dreams Have long since given up Trying to believe They will ever learn to walk
muggleginger
Written by
American
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem