Thoughts on repeat.
But if patterns prove the same
It’s all just on me. :|
Depression and hope intertwined
As I try to define
Are these fireflies? :|
An unrelated voice triggers a thousand memories. :|
That name pops up and it’s a punch to my gut.:|
But then I’m wrapped up in the arms of what ifs and maybe nows :|
So long ago (it felt) that I wrote you were “the only one”
Then I read it, “ah.” I laughed, “youth” I thought. :|
My mind is now drawn back looking for something it never really found.
But I found myself. :|
Will I lose her if I go back to finding you? :|
If I go back to this unrequited love for you? :|
Will I lose myself if I go back to loving you? :|
|: Fuck. I never stopped loving you. :||
Written August 2018
Search…
Everything is so much colder when the stars are out.
But everything’s so much clearer.
Everything is so much darker when clouds cover the night sky.
But everything’s so much warmer.
Is there some version of better that we are always searching for?
There are always pros and cons. This or thats. Rights and wrongs.
The answers we search for controlling our lives.
The search. Controlling our lives.
Is there a perfect middle between the stars and clouds?
Is the search never ending?
Are we all in a never ending system of leveling up and down?
Is discovering this need to search enough to satisfy the need for searching?
Continual Concentric Circles
I can’t find my footing
The ground underneath me is
Slipping, moving around, No solid ground
Other than a constant thought in my head
Telling me that I can’t
Find my footing
Ground Underneath
Slipping Moving
No solid ground
Constant thought in my head
Telling me I can’t
Find footing
Ground
Slipping
Moving
No
A thought
Telling me
I can’t
I can’t.
Written November 18 2018
Training Wheels
non poetry
empty words
blank pages
pen dropped
blackhole words
shallow breaths taken
lack of words overtaken
by a desire to control
the darkness of soul
three dimensional pages
to fit in single dimensions
a mind of vast universe
numb to senses
creating sentences
Trust Wall
Brick by brick.
“Yes, yes” I say. “Yes, I trust you.”
Another brick.
Pain, hurt.
Trust is good, “Yes, I trust you”
Here is a brick.
Again? Why should I trust you!?
After what you did? After what you said?
See?! Here. Fine. Here is a brick of trust!
The wall grows higher.
The pain cuts deeper.
Then. It’s numb.
What is pain? Trust is pain. Pain is trust.
Trust is this stupid wall.
The wall that blocks me from the real you.
I say it’s trust, but now it’s self defense.
What should be a beautiful building?
A stupid wall.
“Walk around it!” you say.
“No” I reply. “I am trying to trust.”
But real trust is safety. Real trust is two sided.
Real trust builds a beautiful house.
Not an ugly wall.
So here I sit.
On my wall.
I want to see over it.
I want to see through it.
I want to see what you’ve become past my dusty wall.
But this “trust” built of bricks
Under the pretense of helping.
Under the idea of giving you independence.
Under the thought you have a better plan.
Trust is two.
Trust is an invitation not a fear of rejection.
Trust is where you see the beautiful.
Trust is a hope for the morning.
Trust is a beautiful house. A beautiful home.
Trust is not sorrowful or lonely.
Trust is meant to be beautiful.
I can’t take down these bricks, but you can help me.
I can’t undo the words, but we can undo the wall.
Bricks can be used a second time.
So won’t you build with me?
Hope in the Dark
Beautifully Terrible Paradox
Originally Written February 16, 2016
Semblance of Grey
Cloudless sky. Clouded sky.
Damp and dark. Hollow trees.
Leaves dripping and falling to the ground.
Mud. Frozen. A tundra of the heart.
Melding, melting into something softer. Kinder.
Underneath a layer hidden.
Redefining from within.
Opening from the inside outward.
Ripping off petals for new growth to begin.
True Story.
A little girl.
A little girl with pigtails.
A little girl with pigtails wearing pink.
A little girl with pigtails wearing pink running after a ball.
A ball.
A ball rolling.
A ball rolling down into the street.
A ball rolling down into the street past the line of safety.
A car.
A car with a driver.
A car with a driver who’s vision is hindered.
A car with a driver who’s vision is hindered slamming on the breaks.
A woman.
A woman distracted in conversation.
A woman distracted in conversation looking up.
A woman distracted in conversation looking up and screaming.
The little girl stops.
The ball rolls.
The car stops.
The woman runs after the little girl.