In the night,
When my dreams
Mix with my reality,
I roll over
To look for you,
But you're never there.
only the cold sheet.

I don't know why
I think you will be there,
But I do.

And I hope still.
That someday,
I'll roll over
And feel you next to me.
Instead of only feeling the space
Where you should be.

My heart stays hidden,
       I don't know where,
       I just know it's hidden.
It hides from my eyes,
        in a box,
        maybe on a shelf.
Wherever I hid it last,
        there it lies.

Scratch that.

I am vacant as a whole.
Emptied and used up,
bits of me carved out
and scattered all around in meaningless disarray.
I feel like I'm grasping at the edges,
to hold it all together in fear that
it'll all
cave
in.

That I'll prove to be a black hole
and wreak nothing but havoc.

But isn't that what I'm already doing?
Holding the edges together while
blindly pulling in whatever feels like it
just might fill the void...

When all I really want is all that's been
scattered to be replaced.
I don't want to just fill
emptiness.
I want to be whole.

I'd rather be in this world
where we share our hearts and stories
Instead I am prisoner to an essay
that is due tomorrow morning

Art history is interesting
It intrigues my hungry mind
But I keep tumbling into blankness
The anxiety is leaving me blind

Please pray that I finish it
and that I get a reasonable grade
If you can give words of encouragement
you will have my night made

you will have my thanks!

I hope I'm not up too late
I hope I have some time for sleep
Good -bye for now hello poetry
I think its time for tea.


Miah~ the weary procrastinator

I want to:
see your 'good morning' smile
wake up to you looking down at me
be able to look up at you

I need to:
hear your voice in the morning
go to sleep listening to your voice
look in to your eyes and know that I'm all you see.

I have to be:
held by you
loved by you
touched only by you.

Who's that girl
it cannot be me.
Does she want to be set free?
Maybe.
She used to come around often,
then hid in the blue moon.
Actualizing anarchy
Rain down depression
Monsoon
Not a confession
Utter confusion
Living this illusion
Dealing with this delusion.
She comes out to visit
illicit,
explicit.
Bottle of wine,
a wink,
a sign,
a drink,
not mine.
She isn't me,
that's my claim,
she isn't me,
she's to blame.