Love: Holding someone

Peace: Feeling centered with yourself, knowing where you are and feeling it, light winds and being in the sun

Secret: Feeling dark on the inside & outside

Empty: Not wholesome, alone

Free: Living without hesitation

Grief: Seeing those around you hurting and that in itself is what’s hurting you

Longing: Overcome with strained desire, needing something so much that you’re feeling tense with want

Regret: Shaming yourself and ignoring forgiveness

Anger: Frustrating your thoughts into one ball of rage

Oblivion: Finding your unknown

Competition: Fighting for your own self against the odds of others

Hope: Always looking for something more, the future should be bright

If I wasn't myself
I would want to be the kid
that people write poems about.

But I am myself.
No one sees me
or hears me
but they read me.

I'm not the kid that they write poems about
because I am the one writing the poem
about you.

You read me
and by 'me' I mean my poems
but they aren't about me
they're about you.

But if you look closely
really really closely
you'll see me,
the writer,
hidden in the poem.

I'm not interesting enough
to have a poem written about me.

But if you want to read about me,
read with your soul
not your eyes or your brain
not even your heart.

No matter what the poem is about,
it's about me
hidden behind the guise
of you.

I am in every poem
that I write
because if I didn't write about myself,
no one would.

You were just a child
(but you wouldn't agree with that.
you were just an adolescent,
embarking on the adventure of
adulthood)

And so was I

We grew up together
played together
laughed together
loved together

Shared secrets,
laughter,
pain.

Shared trimuphs,
trials,
tribulations.

And then came...

Distance.

For both of us.

We lived our own lives,
got through each struggle  
"on our own"

fought our
individual
battles.

Reconnected

here

and

there.

Never the same.

And then,
IT
happened.

IT

Which we can't talk about,
and we couldn't talk about before.

Because it's too dark,
or depressing,
unreal,
or just
too much.

But it was real.
And I felt it.

And did...

Nothing.

And now you're gone
and there's no turning back
no fixing anything
no telling you you're important
and amazing
and inspiring
and real
and serving a purpose
and just

******* alive

There's no turning back

now

There was
but I ignored it,
let it slide
thought I was doing the
"right thing"

I made a mistake.
And now you're gone....
And I wonder,

Why are any of us still

Here?