Jun 2017
Sometimes, the poems only resonate in the space between the sky and your eyes
Your words are tape, the only heart they will know is the shattered pieces of your own that you hold in the palms of your hands
Sometimes, the poems are only just enough to stop the blood from dripping through your fingers, not pretty, not inspiring
Your words are nothing that the world will ever clutch to its chest in its darkest hour, pointing to them as if to say
There is still poetry!
But they are yours.
Your poetry, your tape stretched across the fragments of your heart.
And in the space between the sky and your eyes,
Your words will always be a masterpiece.
Your words are tape, the only heart they will know is the shattered pieces of your own that you hold in the palms of your hands
Sometimes, the poems are only just enough to stop the blood from dripping through your fingers, not pretty, not inspiring
Your words are nothing that the world will ever clutch to its chest in its darkest hour, pointing to them as if to say
There is still poetry!
But they are yours.
Your poetry, your tape stretched across the fragments of your heart.
And in the space between the sky and your eyes,
Your words will always be a masterpiece.
Sometimes I wonder if I should delete the poems that don't get hearts or likes. That voice inside my head says that they're clearly not good enough or that I'm a bad writer. This is my answer to myself.
