#logs
_some days are worse than others. the tide pulls me under most times._
_no buoy or life jacket to keep me afloat._
_it's more like an anchor dragging me down into the depths._
_some days I can hardly even breathe. my chest hurts from the moment I wake up to the moment I try to sleep._
_but I'm just sleepwalking on an ocean of happiness I can never swim in._
_i look in the mirror and the smile I see is not the one you gave me so long ago._
_its just a ghost of a memory I can never get back._
_i'm getting better at tricking the darkness into letting it's grip off of my heart._
_i'm getting better at keeping my head above water._
_i'm getting better at pretending it's all alright even though I'm constantly breaking inside._
_i don't know how much more I can break._
_i sure do miss you being here._
_you were my life jacket that kept me safe from the most devastating hurricanes._
_i don't know what I did to make it all go away._
_please come home._
Nov 18, 2020
Nov 18, 2020 at 4:49 PM UTC
_your hoodie hangs in my closet quietly_
_it mocks me over and over again reminding me that you're not here_
_i can barely even touch it, let alone look at it_
_i want to feel your comforting embrace wrapped around my frail and broken shell of a body_
_but you left me here; a shipwreck left to rot_
_i can't bear to even feel the ghost of your embrace_
_if I wrap that hoodie around my shipwrecked frame, I will start crying_
_and by that I mean my tears will create a storm so devastating it ends the world_
_yet you never come back_
_if you loved me, why'd you leave me?_
Nov 18, 2020
Nov 18, 2020 at 4:47 PM UTC
_i've been jumping in front of trains lately_
_asking myself if it's really worth the risk_
_the way a skydiver looks at the ground miles away and wonders if today is the day it doesn't work out_
_while you're halfway across the country by now, leaving this all behind_
_i've been jumping in front of trains lately_
_wondering what the hell it will take for you to see the pain you left inside me_
_if I could just find the right thing to prove to you that I'm dying_
_maybe then you'd come back home_
Nov 18, 2020
Nov 18, 2020 at 4:45 PM UTC
_i'm becoming more reckless as the days go on_
_jumping off buildings and jumping in front of cars_
_not to die but to almost die_
_maybe then you'd come back home_
_maybe then you'd see just how much pain you caused me_
_but even if you did come home, at this point I'm not sure I would be able to forgive you anymore_
Nov 18, 2020
Nov 18, 2020 at 4:42 PM UTC
_the further you go away, the less I can breathe_
_who has this agonizing grip on my heart?_
_and where can I speak to them, to ask them to let off?_
_i haven't felt pain this demanding until now_
Nov 14, 2020
Nov 14, 2020 at 7:59 PM UTC
_i'm trying to convince myself_
_that maybe if I cry enough tears to create a whole new ocean_
_then maybe you'd see how much you broke me when you left_
_and then maybe you'd come back home_
Nov 14, 2020
Nov 14, 2020 at 7:53 PM UTC
_today felt like I was a zombie walking through a ghost town_
_..broken..dreary..numb.._
_interally and externally_
_i'm officially not okay anymore_
Nov 14, 2020
Nov 14, 2020 at 7:50 PM UTC
Every day on the thruways you can see the surprise
in dozens of bundles, of differing size
some thin and narrow, or thick and piled high
doggy deposits from owners despised
Big logs, big logs, big bad logs
Nobody could tell whose woofer's it was
the smell was horrific, dog food the cause
ya couldn't say much as master offend
It wasn't their dog, they all like to pretend
Somebody said "I'd like to catch one
leaving the loafs on the turf in the sun"
accosting the ******* with chastising care
"pick up the crap your dog just left there"
Big logs, big logs, big bad logs
Big logs, big logs
May 20, 2018
May 20, 2018 at 12:28 PM UTC
Black coffee, clay mugs
Old sweaters, whiskey jugs
Aged wine, rusty fence
Copper pennies, nickel cents
Careworn shirts, timeworn sneakers
Fragrant wood, evergreen cedars
Dusty trails, decayed logs
Chirping grasshoppers, croaking frogs
Heavy rainfalls, splashing rocks
Whizzing insects, scattered flocks
Herb of grace, steady pace
Welcome to my happy place.
Feb 14, 2018
Feb 14, 2018 at 1:41 AM UTC
lichen shrouded logs
laid still on the forest's floor
their bones rotting
Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 9:36 PM UTC
On the bottom of the shoe
Overlooking all the poo
A weird figure shows on up
All this poo is from my pup
I look over to him
He looks back at me
This dog is crazy coming from me
His eyes are red with evil stares
Reminds of the scary scares
I walk away from the dog
He chases after me in the fog
I trip on a log
I'm dead
The End
Oct 4, 2016
Oct 4, 2016 at 10:00 PM UTC
You promised kisses
beneath the old oak
You said you would give
youself to me then
Under the summer's
eager stary eyes
But they came
and cut the oak down
But not before
you left town
Now all I have
is the promise
Of firewood for those
cold lonely nights
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 7:59 PM UTC
Cold days and snowy nights
dissolve into the glow
when we come home from the sweater weather.
In from the cozy autumn day.
In from a day in which sunlight
dappled the tree's bark
like the zig-zagged icing
and french dough.
A day of mittens so only your thumbs protrude.
A day like kittens which tumble in
happiness and innocence.
Into the oak, with the window
in which tear drops
chase themselves away
down the pane and
the cool air is made hot
with cocoa frothy cream
and pumpkin.
We smoke on curled cinnamon sticks
which splinter like burnt logs
on an fire of embers.
The silhouettes of our shadows
catch on the horizon
as we watch the spectrum
scatter from the warm
cream to the dusty
pumpkin to cocoa.
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 2:06 PM UTC