Writing

You’re something like a favorite song. A song someone loves so much that they’ll sit in their room for hours just listening to this one song.

Long live the dead we prop ourselves up on, 

The cane we pass off as our leg. 

Long live the gods that money trickles down from, 

I'm looking in the mirror,

I don't match the picture on the screen,

should I be sad or pleased?

One click at a time,

one more scroll,

oops I fell down the rabbit hole.

Us. Our two souls, separated for years upon years, then collided out of nowhere. Without a second thought, I began talking to you. Something ignited in me. Something like the flame of a match in a dark room.

Let me float

In a sea of poetry,

Words weaving my hair,

Verses like seawater

Trickling into my heart

And lapping against the shores

No matter where I am, the guilt follows me. The guilt of my past decisions, the guilt of the people left behind. The weighed down feeling of all the mistakes in my past. Knowing I can't go back and change it is the hardest.