stephanie Jun 6
the roads always take us
back to west virginia.
the hills we climb lead
to impeccable views,
beautiful hidden scenery
only we knew how to find.
highways became one-lane roads
the gravel washing out,
half-a-million potholes
when you drive on a hillside
like that,
the same rush comes
that you get when you look
over the side of a rollercoaster cart.
but when you’re with your best friend,
the rush turns to comfort.
“if we were to fall off the side of this cliff, I’m glad I’m with you.”  

14:23 5/31/2018
stephanie Jun 6
i keep looking for creativity in the mountains i drive
through & the skies above me but i'm starting
to realize it comes more from within.

i'm hoping to write more poetry
this summer, every year i
live i want to have written
more & more

this will be painful, each sentence a bee-sting.
it means opening up & digging down
deep to my roots and farther
beneath.  

to throw a rope-ladder
into my soul and
excavate every chasm that
makes me who i am.
unzip my skin to let my bones show,
carved into my ribcage,
'this is me.
this is happiness,
hurt
pain
anxiety
love. '
a mess of emotions crowded
into the same small
room.

these are my back roads,
my alleys that lead to the
backyard of my mentality.

words are a form of transportation.
leading down streets of confusion
and pain
that bring me to your doorstep.
i always end up here,
your arms, my home.
journal poem
stephanie Jun 6
Like the dirty laundry
my thoughts keep piling up
like all the empty mugs
taking over my room
the stress is
taking over my mind.

I have the tools to clean up
I have my washing machine
and a dryer,
a sink and my two hands
but nothing will work,
there's a short in my system.

so I keep rebooting
but I'm left with
the same bugs.
so all I can do is sleep and
dream of a time when
things weren't as real
as they are now.
I wish I wasn't as real.
i wrote this in december when i was sad
stephanie Jun 6
this is my poem for the day
this is me laying next to you
wishing you were
inside me
instead.

slightly stoned
i lay here
im wrapped in my Mothers afgan
composed of left over yarn
the colors range
this was her very first one.

i feel paws on my skin
a purr at my arm.

i cant wait to spend another evening
napping with you
and our kittens
:-)
stephanie Feb 10
I wanna smoke all my cigarettes
down any drink I can find
remember how I used to call you mine
but you were never really mine
stephanie Jan 10
eternal slumber

warmth, provided by lover

postponing our stress
stephanie Jan 10
i take that pill
as a substitute
for weed.

it's not an exact
replica, though.
the effects are

almost completely different.
my drowsiness is more
zombie-like

rather than
playful and
light-hearted.

the high makes
my stomach turn
not growl with hunger.

I don't want to sound
like a cliche hippie,
but I prefer the herb.
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