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Most days are like an empty worn
Out house
On 1300 south block
It sees all the wealthy
Empty from the lot of Costco to it's front door. -If you pay heed.

But no one pays attention
Or spends on empty houses
Those with front steps or beds to sleep in
Most walk by thinking something like,
That house did to itself.
To get to where it is.
But they would be dead wrong.

It takes years for a house to empty out
Because of neglect from all sources. For misfortune, no matter all the life inside.

I imagine this was a yellowbird house so proud to be built.
People, a cat or two, maybe an obedient dog walked in and out
Someone cared enough to put a roof on. It thought complete.

Some people are like empty houses. But, people bleed, they cry, that get torn down by so many things. One thing in common though, houses and people are eventually demolished if no one cares.  Time that waits for no one.

Someone may crash into your car of goods as you exit the fancy box stores that make you think more is better. But then your son collapses at home from an overdose. You had no clue he was on ******, did you? What were you paying attention to?  He dies from brain death. He hadn't even reached 26.

At what was your yellowbird home will now be remembered as the sound you heard of your young son's thump as he hit the bathroom floor as you readied for work.  

Split in half. Someone dies. You didn't plan on being an empty house now today, did you?

So, what will you do about it?

Seek to study, exam life? Rebuild, reprioritize?  It's just time. What have you got to spend? Time the only true currency worth its weight.
Nosy Jul 15
My thoughts never
get tired of me
They feel the winter
While I live the summer

I never get to have a chance
A certainty meant to last
A love undone of the past
Four wheels on pavement so fast

Not to be stopped or taken
Just to be lived and laughed
Broken Halos Jun 27
They didn’t quite know how to express it, but deep inside, they, too, were afraid of losing someone they love. Pride often stood in the way, a shield built from past pain and lessons learned the hard way. They had always promised themselves never to repeat the mistakes of their past, never to be as vulnerable as before.

There was a longing in them, a quiet desire to know what it felt like to be cared for deeply, to be love like a child for once. But in trying to protect themselves, they may have gone too far. The very walls they built to keep heartbreak out had begun to suffocate those who tried to get close.

They didn’t regret building those walls; they were necessary, a form of survival. But a part of them did wonder, had they shut out the very experience they longed for? The chance to be loved for who they truly were? Perhaps. And yet, even with that bittersweet truth, they carried on, not with bitterness, but with acceptance. For now, that was enough.

N O I R
My thoughts lately
Agnes de Lods Apr 13
I remember being here.
Hours trapped in the little orange grains of dust.
I recognize these voices, I know their names.
I saw these words replaying in slow motion.

Like in a perpetual motion machine
designed to heal and be healed.
I came to this place after many missed chances
finding my redemption, to see all over again.

Whenever I embrace more flashbacks
from past lives, from past sighs
settling on the broken glass like gentle steam
I feel so quietly completed.

I hide myself in invisible arms
loved many times before,
feeling that I am close to touching my infinity.
Why am I so sure this is the right path?

When I open the boxes of hidden riddles
with keys given by the ethereal glimpses
I know that I return now to the golden core,
to the beginning of everything.
Odd Odyssey Poet Dec 2024
_

Oh, speak to me of these elusive dancing shoes;
for a love that could unfold so easily as a dance,
but I’m stumbling, lacking the steps to formerly romance –
It fills my heart with sadness, this reliance to chance,
for in the blink of an eye,

                I may have already missed my chance.
Hawley Anne Feb 2024
Before the sun starts to rise,
before the world awakes.
In the stillness of mornings quiet
thats where you'll find the pain.
Pain of things that you regret,
pain of days gone past.
But the worst pain of them all,
the pain of choices you can't take back.
The things you missed while you were high.
The memories you didn't make.
The little voice at 4 am, you never heard
saying "Mommy, are you awake?"  
The guilt of never being there,
through a feverish night.
The longing for being the only one,
who would make everything alright.
You wish that it was you at night
who scared the monsters away,
and got cuddles in the mornings.
Every single day.
On quiet mornings you wonder what,
would be happening right then.
If you weren't a drug addict?
How much noise would there have been?
You think of how you would go back
in time if only you could.
You wouldn't do the things you'd done.
Instead you'd do what you knew you should.
But the past is past now,
and your choices were made.
So now you sit on silent mornings
with nothing but the pain.
And the knowledge that both your kids,
call somebody else mom,
and how its all your fault because you know,   
EXACTLY
where
you
went
wrong.
Steve Page Feb 2024
I should have
sought your hand as we walked,
slowed and not swallowed
my next question

I should have
asked you for one slow dance,
danced instead of imagined
decades on

I should have, could have,
perhaps would have
had we slowed
and given ourselves time
Funny how decades don't fade some memories, even if you can't be sure of them.
Nicole Oct 2023
Hope can be a beautiful thing
But when people show you who they are
It loses it's relevance
Trust the acid burning your stomach
From crying over hurt feelings
Not the good you see in her
Trust the tangled knots
Weighing down your thoughts
Not the "potential" painting your perspective
Trust the emptiness of wasted time
And the regrets you carry
Not the chance she'll show up this time
There's only so many opportunities
You can hope for something different
Before you're the one breaking your own heart

Love yourself enough
To know your worth.
Love yourself enough
To let it go.
Zywa Aug 2023
Strangers are safer,

to them I can openly --


tell all my worries.
Novel "The PowerBook" (2000, Jeanette Winterson), chapter "NEW DOCUMENT"

Collection "Unseen"
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