Each poem
each message
deleted
one
after
the other.
The words don't flow freely anymore,
now slow and sticky
not flying out my fingers in their regular way.
I can't make it work
I'm not passionate enough
I already have writer's block,
now this?
I need to let it out somehow
and I found an exit through poetry
but if I can't write poetry anymore
if I can't summon the emotions
how will I get it out?
Your new-ish house
your dog sleeping on the rug
my family and your family chatting comfortably
your kitchen with your hot chocolate
the fun spinny stools at the kitchen island
that's one of my happy places
When we see flaws in ourselves
we withdraw from society
curl in on ourselves
trying to hide from our insecurities.
The thing is
people struggle to understand
that their faults are a part of themselves
Yesterday
you looked in the mirror
said to yourself,
ugh
I look ugly
she's so ugly
ew
last week
you saw your reflection in the window
Comments
Log in or register to post comments.