Sometimes it’s hard to write.
To spill the words out.
Sometimes it’s too painful.
Too complicated a feeling to unravel.
Tag: Poetry
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It’s hard to put into words,
the sudden news
of accidents,
which lead to
an uncovering
of hidden illnesses.My grandfather
is in the hospital
after a fall.
They found some masses.Like an Magic 8 Ball,
“outlook not so good”And it all aches.
Because the world didn’t stop.I tried to slow it down,
but the earth kept spinning round
and gravity kept holding me down.
Time shrugged and went on its way,
like “well, what else would you want me to say?” -
It is almost March.
Regrets are piling up.
Where does the time go? -
I’ve been thinking about you a lot recently. Not that that’s abnormal to be honest, but it’s felt more…impressive. Like I dropped anchor on your memory, maybe it wasn’t on purpose, but it happened all the same. So I’m exploring the intricacies of our story. I’m gently grazing, in search of sense. Maybe I’m also seeking forgiveness. I’m not sure yet.
I still have questions for you. Some that are fair, some that are probably not. I’ve found that I can’t trust my memory as much now. Moments are hazy. I’ve forgotten most of the things you said to me. Now I just have all these poems. But they feel different now too.
It’s all in abstract now. It’s just a feeling. But it’s not just a feeling. It never has been. It is the aching. Like waves against the shore. Ebbing and flowing. I wish sometimes it would stop. Sometimes I cling to it.
I think what I’m trying to say is. I miss you. And I wish I didn’t.
I miss you and I know it’s not enough.
Love, Me
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Slow down.
Don’t push.
Be still.
Live light. -
Today is the first day of the rest of your life.
What if everything changes?
What if nothing does?Life is funny that way.
So mundane and yet so apocalyptic.
We uncover ourselves in the monotonous revealing of time.I’m finding it harder and harder to hold on,
to ignore the absurdity of existence.
How have I loved so many strangers,
and how can they mean everything and nothing to me at the same time?How does anyone do anything at all?
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I wonder if I am destined for eternal melancholy.
It’s just a thought.
One intimate thought.
It aches and aches and aches inside me. -
The frustration is rooted
at the pit of my stomach.
The weight pools in me,
knowing there is a carelessness
in every touch.It rattles inside me,
the desperation to be seen.
To be loved. -
I think I loved you once.
Twice.Maybe every third day.
For years.Those last five minutes were
Everything.I think I loved you once.
A thousand times.Maybe I will again.
Maybe I will again. -
I wonder at the girl I used to be. How brave she was and yet so naive.
The intricate way in which we change like smooth seamless waves. You don’t notice it until it’s already done.
How do I carry on with all these feelings inside me?
Here. Soon. Please. 