Tag Archives: poet

For Her

My lord,

I’m praying again.

You must be tired of my voice

But please,

I wouldn’t waste your time,

It is for her. 

These prayers are all I have,

I’m getting lost trying to help,

Please. 

You could bring her so much comfort,

So strong and positive, 

She will use every last breath to fight,

But hasn’t she fought enough?

Trial after trial, 

She needs a vacation from trying to survive, 

So she can desperately live

On the other side of the glass window.

It’s a waste for people to not see her soul,

To keep something so beautiful locked up, 

I have witnesses who can attest to her character,

But you should know her well, 

She is filled with your light, 

aching so badly to shine.

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Naively Aware

I have forgotten the song your voice plays
How the notes are imprinted across my soul
They lay dormant
Till they can render your love.

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Purge

it takes time
to find the courage again
to sift through the evidence of your heart break
careful to not be cut from the sharp edges
the previous scars are only just fading
you hold them as if they are delicate flowers
determined to not let them cause you any more pain
you know how to protect yourself now
you have layers of security that no one can hack
you are a fortress with an army that has seen darkness
they don’t want to go back
so you banish the triggers
use the glass from your old heart to rebuild
and when it seems to be too much
you commence a purge of emotions into words
as if your soul is getting a spring cleaning
you know now that you will still be standing
after the coldest of times.

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Your Eyes Can See

It’s easy. I know.

A tiresome human characteristic

To believe what is in the mirror.

It’s hard to not see a disillusion,

The best view of you is not in your reflection.

 

It’s in their eyes.

Those eyes that see you,

Those who hear your true voice,

Not the one that you hear in your head,

The voice that flows into their being.

 

They won’t fail you.

The ones that count.

They flourish in your vision,

Where you doubt, they have hope,

Strength you lack, you gifted to them.

 

They gift to you as well.

Being the image that you deserve,

So that you no longer need,

To listen to your internal monologue,

And paint your own reflection.
(Not 100% this is where I want this, but for now.) 

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Liberation

I’m sitting in the prime location,

Imagine…

A spot, where you can watch your world,

Another beginning, everything has paused,

You recognize the people in line,

The couple at the window,

The girl slouched in the corner over her laptop,

It’s natural, down to the macchiato on the table,

Everything that has past is still here,

I have a front row seat to the story of me,

Every cringe worthy moment on hand,

Hypnotizing, sending anxiety drones hurling,

A sound of unfamiliar cadence captures me

Just outside the window, beyond the haze,

The torturing repetition is encapsulating,

I need to swim through the stars,

Following the notes to a new scene,

Escape route unknown, my post has no more advantage,

My world has hit it’s climax,

But its a world that I have experienced,

I just need to take my coffee to go.

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Always Learning

I didn’t lose a part of me,

I wasn’t so lucky this time.

My fingers walk along my skin,

A hidden roadmap to my being.

It’s there along my rib cage,

no warmth or pulse.

A reminder, a battle wound,

I give it respect for its determined permanence.

It jolts my heart with every graze and brush.

I look at where I was, a shell filled with pain,

shaken to the core beyond myself.

Hours, minutes, seconds,

my only medicine.

I’m strong.

I’m strong.

I’m strong.

The only mantra worth repeating.

It will be there at every junction,

It’s there along my rib cage,

but I know these streets,

I will soon learn a detour.

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No Control

This feeling isn’t new.
It’s like a skydiver has taken my heart as a parachute.
Free falling.
My heart holding on as it folds into itself,
Against the pressure of the wind and the view,
The ground growing closer,
Dots becoming shapes,
Shades of green and brown
Turning into backyards and farms.
When is the cord going to be pulled?
When is the relief going to come?
So that I know that my heart
Isn’t going to go splat on the sidewalk
Next to the promises that I made to myself.
I wear my heart on my sleeve,
Not in a romantic kind of way,
But in a truth kind of way,
In a goodness kind of way.
And yet, here I am again,
Losing the ground beneath my feet,
Air getting lost on the way to my lungs,
All because I trusted myself,
To squish down the feelings that are
Fighting a civil war in my chest.
I promised I wasn’t going to allow a person to be my trigger,
But what can I do if I gave them the bullet?

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