© 2019 HePo
Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads.
Become a member
Emitting deep sighs old things fall apart
The roof leaks
leaving in pin ****** of light,
reminding me of the overgrowth
slanting against the weight of my books
even the lamp seems to dim
against tired eyes.
Love can be tiring,
a mountain of work;
pleasing everyone usually means
you've given in
or had to bite the bullet.
Perhaps one day I'll be relegated to a museum,
titled the mindset of a previous generation.
I remember seeing the Neanderthals and shaking my head.
Is that how they'll see ME?
Words, how they stir me
a lost art,
buckling the flooring
only to be sanded away along with my emotions..
Years of complacency
have softened my resolve,
now as I condense my belongings to fit inside
a shared house
I see photos of people no one after me will know or love
and my tiny self posing dynamically, hands on hip
the future sparkling in my eyes
before life smacked me down.
Now heavy rains seep into the living room
leaving me perched on circumstances
with an urgency stirring within,
the need to write.
Christi Michaels MoonFlower
to view and add comments on poems