poetry
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It’s getting late and the tea’s boiling
I listened to some really good music today. I’ve been packing for this move and this morning was just so great. I’ll miss it here. Even though it didn’t last long, it was nice. No matter how many people were against it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m extremely excited for…
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Thank You for Understanding
I don’t know who reads this; but thank you. When I think of writing, when I talk about writing, there’s nothing else I think I could do, would do, want to do. I’ve been faced with people who pick up the papers, give me a quizzical look, and hand it…
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It’s 4:44 and I’m drowning
Drowning in boxes, drowning in sorrow. Call it seasonal depression, call it my life. Another day, another day. How the sun and moon revolve around one another playing flirtatious games with my heart. It’s 4:44 and nights of no matter run on and on through my mind. People I have…
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It’s late and I wish I never started
I say this and actually don’t know what I mean; I want a break and I say this as if I don’t have the option for one. I do but what I want is far greater than that. And with that, I cannot break just yet—even if I tried. The…
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I Love How Repelling My Words Are
It seems as if the deepness of my open wound heart that leaks tears of love and pain are all too much for the ears of someone who hasn’t learned to see. Oh, let me not confuse you as their eyes have been opened to some degree but maybe in…