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sorrowcherry Mar 29
How many nights will I sit in the echo chamber of my mind?
Telling me I'm unworthy, that I'm running out of time
Time is the measurement of change,
And arrives no sooner than the dearly departed
The drumming in my chest serves as a reminder
That I'm destined to be broken hearted
Glancing in the mirror for a lifetime of bad luck
The fragments of the memories
Lead me to just not give a ****
Fine lines under my eyes grow deeper with each turn around the sun
My sense of hope is fading
When each chapter burns before it's done
There is no other choice but to take paper and pen
To fill in the blanks, find a way to start again
But no matter how many times I aim to change the narrative
The glass in the mirror will shatter
I am trapped here; it's declarative
A mosaic of pain, of all things unkind
I refuse to put it back into the world
Instead I choose to suffer with no one at my side.
This does not make me a martyr, a sinner, or a saint
I am just a girl now turned a woman
Still trapped in her constraints.
sorrowcherry May 2020
it's not love.

you will make it out of this.

saying no does not make you a bad person.

saying yes too much will leave you empty.

you probably don't need those credit cards.

whiskey does not drown your sorrow.

this is the only body that you have.

be kind to it

and your heart which

shatters over and over

but still lives.

you will make it out of this

you will fall in love

with yourself and then

maybe one day another.

you will live to see 22 and then 25

and then, eventually, 30.

today, we are 28.

we are happy.

we are grateful.
happy birthday to me.
sorrowcherry Apr 2020
"I never stood a chance, did I?"

"That's the sad part - you did once."

I stopped dead in my tracks at that moment. How was it possible that one small sentence could send me through a myriad of emotions, and so quickly at that? Every brittle bone in my body felt like it was threatened to crack by the chill that rolled down my spine and spread to my toes. The voice echoed in my skull, creating a rattling against the cage that was my mind. I could never be free from it.

Immediately, I was taken back to that time where it was you and I. I stood on the corner and you had asked me to stay. I was hesitant, but nothing will ever replace or let me forget that warmth that I felt. It was as if a fire was lit in this hollow chest, keeping me warm and igniting me with a pride that later on betrayal would burn out.

Where did it all go so wrong?

It was that question that I was still unable to answer. You and I - again, we both knew it was undeniable. I had once been powerful. This has once been beautiful. As it seemed, with all good things, they must come to an end.

And here we were.

My arms folded across my chest and I found my fingers curling into my fists. They squeezed, tightening until my bones were knuckle white and taut against my skin, glowing so pale like the moon that lingered over us. My eyes found it after seeking it out, and I struggled not to find myself counting every star in the sky as the letters of the words for all of the things I wanted to say to you. I couldn't seem to find the way to curl my tongue around them and spit them out into your hands anymore, but trust me when I say I once would've given you all of those stars.

I could only manage a few - "Well, the past is the past."

I could hear the disdain crawling from your throat and escaping in the form of a sigh. In this moment to you, the words mattered. Like a board game I found myself with not many letter choices to arrange together, and certainly none that would ever place you & I in the same reality again, regardless of how much I longed for it.
sorrowcherry Apr 2020
I am not your flower
yet you pluck my petals.

"He loves me,
He loves me not."

the familiar fluttering
until I wilt.

you dig me up
to drink the water
from my roots
with no intention
on planting me again.
sorrowcherry Apr 2019
A sunflower with a drop
of oily yellow so feeble
but one gets lost in the
happiness it brings

I haven't ever known
a happiness similar to this.
In the days of my childhood,
I used to sit in a room alone
with the vast pages of words and alphabet

I've learned them so well
Yet no matter how I arrange
I'm not convinced that I can
Properly express all of the things
I wish to say to you.

At sunset, when light fades in to darkness,
the gray that spreads around makes one ask,
'what if the moon wouldn't appear tonight?'

I've learned that the moon, it always appears.
But if you turn your back to it
You will miss the small things that it shines on

Like the sunflower that has been planted
from the coldest of all the winters
and from darkness of all the odds
have put against it in lack of sunshine

There, it waits.
Plenty in solitude and
protected by solace.
Ready for you to water it
and teach the warmth
of the world that you have provided,
so it can bloom under an autumn moon
From the perspective of a fictional character I've created, this was a poem drafted after the character, who was supposed to be infertile, found out she was pregnant. This was how she presented the news to her partner. The sunflower representing the child.
sorrowcherry Apr 2019
am i me?
am i you?
thoughts fill this empty
tomb, or am i to assume
it is merely a room?

the world is still spinning
but mine has seemed to slow;
no longer in synchronization
with the familiar ebb & flow

floating through cracks & crevasses
my feet won't touch the ground
you tell me to snap out of it
but i don't hear the sound

if i can transcend time
and i can transcend space
maybe i can follow the leader
of my mind and find my place of
belonging without a trace
sorrowcherry Mar 2019
the flickering of the camera captures your smile
you hit send - upload complete.
the illumination from the screen frames your features
you've wiped away the facade you've created
in the form of facebook memories
and wall posts of positive mantra

such unnatural levels of light can drain your battery
so face to face, we dial the sliders down
but you disappear in the shadows, face down, thumb scrolls
i waited to see your smile, how the real thing could compete
with that perfectly composed image
instead, i was met with the buzzing of a notification
that killed the conversation between us.

the eyes are the windows to the soul
but with the barrier of the glass on a screen
it seems less an invitation and more of a breaking and entering
i would love nothing more than to tell you
that i like the thoughts that come from your mind
to hear them out loud from your lips
and to watch the natural glow that emits,
no flash or filter needed.

my disdain is not for the social platforms designed to connect
only for all of the things that we've left unsaid
while we turn our backs, and hit share instead.
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