Regret it a skeleton.
His bones are made of lead.
He wont stop talking.
He sits on my bed.
Out from his sockets
Blood does drip
As he pours me poison
that I continually sip.
His skull is cracked
And from it you can see
A heart sits
where his brain should be.
***
I must admit, I’m so very tired of it all.
Why is that?
There are so many things that need to be fixed in this world.
If you were made to fix broken hearts, you would have been born with a needle and thread.
***
When you look in the mirror, what do you see?
Everything I’m not.
That is a lie that may you feel, but never believe. Remember, A butterfly cannot see its wings.
***
What is the hardest truth for you to accept?
You can try so hard and do everything right and you can still meet a sad ending.
Why do you try then?
What else do we know but to try.
Is it worth it in the end?
I hope so.
***
I am breaking.
For a star to be born, something must collapse.
Does it hurt?
Everywhere.
***
How was your day?
I came home last night. I sat down and was greeted with silence. Is silence loneliness or freedom?
Only perspective can tell.
***
People come and go. Why do you bother? They are rivers, ever changing.
They come and they go, but I will never forget them. Not even one.
But do you not miss them?
If someone leaves, another is met. When a door shuts, another opens.
But do you not miss them?
Yes. Very much.
***
Tell me about the sun.
It is alone yet still shines.
Is that all?
What else is there?
It is alone, yes, but it is proof that endings can be beautiful.
Only if you can see the colors.
You have to look through the clouds.
But is it not sad?
The most remarkable things are both sad and beautiful.
***
What troubles you?
I’m scared.
Of what?
It’s not that I fear that I won’t be loved, but I wonder, will I ever be understood?
Both would be the greatest gift.
***
It is heavy, this weight we carry.
Hearts of gold often are.
Just because one carries it well, does not mean it doesn’t weigh them down.
It hurts to care. Is it worth it all in the end?
Always.
They warn you of sticks and stones,
That break your bones,
But fail to mention
Betrayal and lies,
Cut deeper than a knives,
I think Words will always hurt me.
But those who speak
Sugar and spice
And of everything nice,
Those words will always heal me.
Someone did you wrong
What shall you do?
Forgive them they say,
For what they’ve done to you.
You swallow the feelings
Nevermind you might choke.
Who are you to be the one to provoke.
But you are constantly reminded
Through others you met,
You want to love them,
But they register a threat.
You can’t help but hold on,
To you it was real,
You’re just making yourself forget
Instead of heal.
Once there was an artist who went out everyday,
To the cliffs she would go to paint the sea spray,
The waves in curls and folds of blue
Water rushing in a darkened hue,
Then one day the artist fell
From the heights of the cliff
Into the sea swell
But the waves gently cradled
The artist so close
“How can we kill the one that loved us the most?”
But then to ocean’s great surprise,
Tears began to fill the painter’s eyes.
“I’m sorry to tell you, I did not fall.”
Then said with words that did break,
“I’m sorry, I jumped, it wasn’t a mistake.”
It will set you free
And hold you close
Reveal what you care for the most.
It can be a sweet release
Of endless peace.
But can devour as a reckless beast.
Some seek it out,
Others fear.
But it will happen to all far and near.
Is it’s embrace warm or cold?
It distinguishes not between youth and old.
Makes some cry
Others release a breath.
Am I addressing love or death?
Pay attention to the soul in the corner,
And the person when the joke cuts too deep.
To those who text you late at night,
For they’ve never been good as sleep.
Pay close attention,
To the third friend on the walk,
For when path grows too narrow,
And leaves only room for two to talk.
Pay close attention to
The misfits
The thirdwheels
The nobodies
The weirdos
The lonely
The freaks
Pay close attention,
Open your eyes and see,
For such are these people,
They were once were you & me.
The color of wind swirling in the fall.
The color of the feeling of an unanswered call.
The colors of droplets swimming down a pane.
The color of the night when it’s driving you insane.
An angry ocean, whose waves curl.
The cold wind in a flag as you watch it unfurl.
The color of that heavy weight in your chest.
When things don’t work out, though you gave it your best.
The color you feel when your finger tips are cold.
The color you touch when your soul becomes old.
The color that surrounds you as you’re falling in a dream.
The color that you exude when you’re torn at seams.
The color of water as it moves, always, always running.
The color you feel when you realize you don’t like what you’re becoming.
Forever is where friendships go to die,
Where birds lost in sunsets fly.
Where relationships that I did invest,
Found its place and decided to rest. Bonds of love that would break “never”.
So it’s hard to reply when people ask,
“Do you believe in forever?”
Is it a word we even understand?
Eternity stretching without an end?
But we reduce to symbol and word.
Forever reduced to a sound that can be heard.
Compacted into a nice small clause.
Ignoring the word keeps going without pause.
Do we really understand words like “love” and “never”?
Yet even less we understand words like “forever”.
For some death is a panicked rush
For others it is but a gentle touch.
Is death a lamb
A kindly offered hand
Or a wolf that eats
Hungers and never sleeps?
A whisper that asks you,
“Are you sad?”
But never,
“Are you ready?”
By the Brooke 