Would my grave be
deeper than my wounds?

Would the warmth of the morning sun
still reach my rotten body?

Would Icarus, my bird, fly to the sun looking for me
Is my selfish death going to cost him his wings, too?

Would the worms weep when
they ******* tormented flesh?

"Hi, how are you?"
"I'm good, thank you."
It's the same response everyday,
yet I don't know if I'm okay.
If I were to answer truthfully,
no one would want to listen to me.
They don't need to hear me complain,
they will only think I'm insane.
All I can do is carry on,
but deep down I feel so gone.

I want to tell you
What’s in my head
This entire other world
The constant droning of voices
The screaming and thrashing within

But if I did
If I did...

You’d never look at me the same
I’d be broken to you
Damaged

I know that I am...
But I just...
I can’t let you see me like that

I heard your voice
in the wind and you let me know
that you were saying goodbye.
I run for shelter,
fear of what comes next.
These nights have never felt so cold,
but all I can do is wait out
the impending storm.

I wish everyday for the breeze of an Autumn morning
The light chill that kisses goosebumps along my legs and arms
I wish for a golden leaf to fall into my hair as I walk along the pavement
For the sun to shine through the shy, soft clouds
I wish for a warm cup of cocoa on a November sunset
And the soft fuzz of my cat’s tail brushing against my leg as she purrs onto my hot skin
I wish to curl up beside the fireplace with a good book
And dream into the nothingness of tomorrow
I wish to blast the smell of lavender around me with the click of a lighter
And fall into the wonderful scents of the future
I will gaze out the window as I watch the leaves fall
As the smell of warm heat surrounds me
A book in my lap, my cat by my side
I will fall into a frenzy of chapped lips and soft blankets
Some people wish for a lover or a laptop
But all I want is the breeze of an Autumn morning

Isn’t it funny
How poets dramatise everything
“An ocean of depression”
“A death grip of love”
We just can’t help ourselves
It’s who we are
It’s part of being a poet
Over analysing life
Deeply contemplating death
“What is the meaning of life?”
Everything is philosophical
There’s always a lesson to learn
An issue to address
A heartache to confess