Nov 19

The Sleepy Reality


It was one of those days
where I couldn’t 
decipher 
reality from dream;
to tired to think,
yet to alert 
to sleep. 

Neither ghost nor human,
maybe somewhere 
between the two,
sleepily stumbling
through life.
Neither present nor happy. 

Today, was one of those days. 
Nov 18

Rainy Soul Sputtering


I wrote a poem, 
with that small red pen you gave me,
ink slipping across the page 
and onto unsuspecting fingertips.  
Just enough to cover 
the parts where 
ink met pen met finger.

I wrote a poem 
on the bench 
outside of the train station,  
people bustling by: 
to busy to stop and look for a moment, 
honking cars 
and the slight 
smell of gasoline 
bubbling from the vents.

I wrote a poem 
Nov 16

How Slowly

Me without you
is a misrepresentation
of myself. 

Slightly more broken,
slightly less confident 
and mostly overruled.

Purposely less oriented...

Running makes me think,
but not about the good things,
no, mostly about you...
and how slowly
you became that part of me
that never lets go. 

 
Nov 15
poem 2 comments challenge: I Am

The Way of the World

I am the one who holds back.
Lip bitten, tongue tied, and unforgettably quiet.

I am the one who loves.
Star struck, misty eyed, and slowly loosing air. 

I am the one who observes.
Pointedly watching, admiring your smile, 
and precariously perched. 

I am am the one who laughs.
Tear streaked, bleary eyed, and out of breath. 

I am the one who listens.
Meticulously present, silently secretive,
Nov 12

Hidden Lights

We all wanted
something new, 
something that was seceretly 
and silently perfect. 

Perhaps you suspected 
we knew something
you didn't. 

And we did,
we just didn't admit it. 

We learned 
to bloom 
without sunlight 
and smile without stars.

Sudden hapiness
was our specialty.

They didn't need that,
they just thought they did. 



 
Nov 09

Faucet Mouse


It stuck to the drain
sinking, falling but almost dead.
Not quite a monster,
not quite a mouse.
Almost, if you squinted,
a spindly tail in the rear.

You pulled it from the plug
slipping, slimy but always strong.
It didn’t bite, not yet a creature.

It clung and fell,
not even looking back.
It made sense, the deepest, darkest 
parts of the universe 
were never meant to be seen. 
 
Nov 07

Just Me


I've learned to worship insignificance. 
After all,  
clouds were never meant to be seen.

Brown paper in a bottle
with blotchy ink spilled across it.

Broken shoelaces and wandering hearts.

I was not built to fly.
After all, the stars were never made for me:
I was made for them.

Pocket-sized notebooks
were meant to be filled with
spilled-soul-shatterings
but they were made
equally as worthy
Nov 07

Before I Met You

I never knew
what it felt like to smile
before I met you.

I never knew
what rain felt like
before I stood barefoot
in the deepest puddles. 

I never knew
how happy I could be
before I tried rich, dark hot chocolate.

I never knew what it felt like to laugh
before I clutched at my stomach
in cramping pain
and happy tears flowed from my eyes.

I never forgot 
what it felt like to suck

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