Poetry

I wander through the woods. The day is cool and dry, with a wind blowing that smells of wood and fallen leaves. The bracken has begun to brown, though the Joe pye weed and goldenrod still stand strong.

Breathe. 
In. Out. 

A calm breath, 
a solid moment stuck 
in the middle of chaos.

Count to a number you call 
lucky. Every number is lucky to somebody. 

In a chaotic world 

of eight billion people, 

each hidden away 

in their own 

separate lives, 

be remembered for 

being the person 

who brings others joy, 

A whisper in the wind... 

A yell in the thunder... 

But they will never tell my secrets... 

Cry in my pillow... 

Cry in the rain... 

But they will never mock my tears... 

Lying in my bed

Staring at the ceiling

Rethinking the day

Going over everything I said

Everything I did

But please

Don't tell my friends

About my excessive overthinking

I 

I sit 

I sit and 

I sit and think 

I sit and think and 

I sit and think and wonder 

I sit and think and wonder and 

I sit and think and wonder and worry 

today, i let my brother spray me with a hose 

and it reminded me of that time at camp,

when we jumped in the pool, still in our clothes 

it reminded me of water balloon fights, 

It holds me

keeps me at the right temperature as long as it's between 50-70 degrees outside.

It embraces me

I can be myself in it

I don't have to hide as much

i get

obsessed

with little things

movies

singers

people

anything

for two to six months

i cant

think

about

anything 

else

like being tangled

Don’t. 

Don’t you know? 

Don’t you know what I mean? 

Don’t you know what I mean when I say 

something isn’t right something isn’t right something isn’t right 

I — 

I could. 

I could, love. 

I could love you. 

I could love you if… 

I — 

I wanted. 

I wanted to. 

I wanted to, love. 

It's lying on its back 

on a large flat rock,

exposed to the grayish sky like an offering 

to some odd god.

There's a hole in its breast,