When I say I miss something,
I don’t always mean the people.
I miss the sun that shined through the window,
The leaves fleeting in the wind,
The bird flying by.
I don’t miss the people; I miss the moment and the air,
The feeling of being there—
Even though I’d hate to be there.

the freedom of
loneliness, breathe
in the silence,
intoxicating.
the feeling of
an empty house,
...
I guess we all want
what we don't have.

Alone in my house,

being enclosed by the fog --


A cow is mooing.

Echos of the forgotten children
dance along the
breeze.
With tired eyes and weary smiles
as they
sleep along the streets.

No kind words or helping hands
from the strangers
passing by,
just echos of forgotten children
an
endless
hopeless cry.

Nowhere to turn, no place to run.
Just lonely
damaged souls.
They try to hide or numb the pain
of being left out
in the cold.

Years its been,
since they felt warmth;
most do not remember love.
So the echos of forgotten children
are quietly swept,
under
the rug.

Their tears trace familure paths
across their
*****
cheeks.
The echos of forgotten ones
that sleep along
the streets.

Its cold its dark,
they are alone.
They fear the end
is soon.
So they numb their pain
in any way
even if it brings their
doom.

The echos of forgotten children
forced to grow up
much to fast,
dance their way
through lonely streets.
Reminders of
their
tragic
past.

You hated the smell of cigarettes 

So I stopped smoking 

Even when you're long gone

I still haven't picked it back up

Because I am still hopeful

That you'll come back

Bumping into you, talking to you

And still showing 

I cared about the little things 

After all this time

lots of leaves and tall trees
a blue house staring over me

a feeling alone, mocking me

orange sky and ease
angst building as the sun deepens

can i ever be set free?

from this cycle that witholds me-
recurring power to negativity and gloom

can positivity really be enough for me?

to keep rising again, through dark space-
only able to rely on me

light in obvious places, scares me
a trick waiting to point and tease

doors that seem to be js a push away-

yet i pull

im all in on the losing side of tug a war
once i fall only i can pick myself back up

fear in things that might not be as they seem
balance is key

lack of hope is what gets me
impending doom within me

romanticizing potential like a love novel-
too good to be true

neglect: a forever question of truth

unrealiable feel of belong-
only love can make me feel so small

how come I'm the one left unloved?
How come I have no friends to turn to?
How come I'm always the one they judge —
never truly seen, never truly known?
How come there's no shoulder for my tears,
no arms to hold me when it hurts?
How come I keep wishing someone,
anyone, would care?
How come I still want to fit in,
even when it means losing pieces of myself?
How come I'm not me,
but who they want me to be?
And how come —
in the quietest moments —
I wonder if I should even exist at all?

Since you have been gone
         I miss your company
                      Your warmth
                                   Your humour

Now you are no longer here
         I miss your laughter
                        Your intellect
                                      Your passion

Because you have been taken away
          I miss your caring nature
                          Your artistic abilities
                                        Your positive attitude

As you can never return
           I will miss your hugs
                            Your kisses
                                         Your love

I miss you, you were my wife, my life my reason to be
           I miss having someone with confidence in me
                                 I miss you
                                            I miss you.