Aug 23
thegirlinthewoods's picture

a friend, not as much anymore though.

a personal vent <3


of course we’re friends

of course, you say.

but your words waver

your tone falters
yes, i want to talk to you

yes, i would love to make plans

i nod my head, but

i know that these are empty promises
you have her now.

someone new, and exciting,

who you can buy matching rings with

and see whenever you want.
i care about you

you say,

i want you to be happy.

your words are nice, but why do your actions hurt?
you still have me,

but i don’t think i have you anymore.

 
Aug 23
thegirlinthewoods's picture

click

with a sigh,
a nod
a moment of silence
a pen falls from the hand
of a writer

something so small
can carry something so great
a vessel 
for all of the things you could ever say

click. 
focus
click.
you can focus, if you just stop-
click. 
please, it’s driving me crazy
click.

 
Aug 10
thegirlinthewoods's picture

Out of Order


I can bang on this glass all I want 
shake the metal walls 
and kick the bottom of the machine 
holding my foot in pain after my show of frustration

Nothing will come out. 
Nothing has come out for days. 
The vending machine 
is broken. 

I can yell all I want, 
I can cry out, 
and I still won’t be able to tell someone 
that the vending machine is broken 

No words will come out. 
My mouth has been dry and closed for days 
I might just be 
broken. 
 
Jul 21
thegirlinthewoods's picture

Threads


I am cotton
You are wool
and they are silk.

Our threads may interfere
with the pattern.
(With the cloth.)

They are untouchable,
smooth, and soft.
They know what they want.

You keep me warm, 
but you are rough with your words, with your tongue.
You know what you want.

I am not soft, or rough, but malleable.
I can’t find myself in this, 
and I will change for you.

For them.
 
Jul 21
poem challenge: Freedom
thegirlinthewoods's picture

Dreamer, Writer, Child

I am a dreamer, a writer, a child
I wonder if I dream, will my dreams come true?
I hear a raven, wheeling through the sky
I see a young child, playing in the mud
I want to see a wish being granted
I am a dreamer, a writer, a child
I pretend to fly as I leap around the mirrored room
I feel the clouds part for me as I soar
I touch the sun, and pull its warmth down to earth
I worry for the children with no place to call home
I cry for loss and poverty
I am a dreamer, a writer, a child
I understand that I am a grain of sand in an ocean
I say, let us be free
I dream of peace and magic
I try to always find the good before the bad
I hope that I will someday make my dreams come true
I am a dreamer, a writer, a child