In the quiet corners of my
mind, I get lost
in my words –
as are my thoughts swirling
like leaves in the wind.
My notebook and pen become my
abditory:
a secret refuge where I
can disappear.

__

And it is here, in this
cherished hideaway, that I
lose
myself completely,
enveloped in the embrace
of
ink and paper,
crafting a reality
all my own.

Yall i found my old notebook with some poems i wrote when i was like 12-13, should i post them here? Perhaps make a collection? Let me know what you think in the comments

Ah, silent wordless love,
Sweet smiling melancholy,
Solitary, symphonic,
Saying nothing, answering nothing.

All the while your tireless arms
Nurse my trembling life,
Caress the gleaming cosmos,
Bringing close the happy heart of God.

I left my soul here somewhere
have you seen it?
black leather cover
some blank pages
but most scribbled
with illegible fountain pen ink
a desperate hand
searching for meaning out
of the darkness of light
it's not that important really
I just can't live without it

This is not a time to open the old notebooks,
When running through my mind happy thoughts
It's a beautiful life, and a beautiful ride that taught
You are not the only valuable I always thought

Happy thoughts, for them I long fought
They kept me away from the old notebooks,
Would I be the person who I am today as it stands
I hold way too many valuables on this ride as she hands

I'd do anything to take up space
in her notebook.
Almost anything.
Close to anything.
Most positively not that, but close to that.
A wobbly fall or ignoring a crowd of people.
walking through a double door you’d normally
have no problem walking though.
Most definitely the kind of mistake
that leaves you paralyzed.
Unable to move, taste, or breathe freely.
Paralyzed & left between the pages
she comes back & visits often.
Pages I have to relive every time I see her face.
If she turns her notebook sideways the blue lines
become a jail cell.
If she turns her notebook long ways the blue lines
become a pair of blinds & I fall.
Shifting through the pages until I hit the bottom.
I'd do anything to take up space
in her notebook.
Almost anything.
Close to anything.
Most positively not that, but close to that.
Unless she adds caution tape to the elevator shaft
Of the next skyscraper she draws.
Or maybe I'll just take the stairs

Climb that hill
My teachers said
When they saw the words on the page

I climb the hill now
With the words in my head
And a notebook as my stage

The fragile spine breaks
As you read the words
Silenced by my pen