There is sadness woven into my every thought.
Worries and fears shout over each other,
both demanding they be heard first.
My memories whisper amongst themselves
in the corners where they think I can’t hear them.
It’s a chaotic setting that I’ve grown all too familiar with.
But if you were to ask me,
right now,
What is on my mind?
I’d spin you a tale of a quiet room
with fleeting mumbles like nothing ever lingers too long.
Of course, that isn’t true.
My mind has fashioned trinkets out of my tragedies
and displays them with pride.
It’s found sanctum in the somber solitude
of a late night’s crying session.
I’m not even the same person anymore.
The old me,
The happy me,
is confined to a box, long forgotten
on a cluttered shelf behind every mistake I’ve ever made.
Sometimes I’ll remember
what she was like;
Small flashes of bright eyes,
Pink cheeks warmed by the sun
and a wild, toothy grin that never cracked.
I wish she could’ve stayed longer.
God, what I would give to bring her back.
To give her a world
that wasn't so loud,
one that would never beat her to her knees.
She didn't deserve what happened to her.
She only ever wanted the best,
she only ever deserved the best.
Open to suggestions on how I can make this poem read more fluidly. It seems very disjointed, but it's the first thing I've been able to write in months.
