It’s kind of sad.
I dont know when exactly but I think I stopped enjoying my own company.
I dont enjoy being alone anymore.
It’s been forever since I’ve enjoyed my thoughts and told myself stories before falling asleep.
My head hasn’t been a nice place to be lately.
Things weigh down heavier than I remember.
And I’m just so tired of myself. Which is unfortunate as she’s the only person in this world that I’m guaranteed to have.
I dont know when exactly I started being uncomfortable with being alone. Maybe it was a slow sort of process.
But it makes sense now why I have so many hobbies. Things that can distract me from the company that I’m keeping.
I dont particularly hate myself but she’s a very exhausting person to be around.
And so I’m tired all the time.
Tag: Poetry
Evening Poems: Candy Wrappers
I used to have time to write down the processes of my mind.
And convey them through weaving stories.
To make a feast of my innermost desires and fears to be consumed by every hungry reader.
Now I have less time
And even more thoughts.
So instead I package them like candy,
Coated with sugar to hide the sour inside.
And I call it poetry.
Evening Poems: Pen & Ink
Pen and ink
Pen and ink
Tell me what I should think
What to say
What to feel
Save me from a mind that reels.
Pen and ink
Pen and ink
Deeper into my thoughts I sink
Pages turn
And my mind burns.
And onto the page I bleed.
Pen and ink
Pen and ink
I just want to escape to
A world of rest
Beyond his mess
That people call reality
Evening Poems: Golden
Golden child, golden child,
As soon as you were born
Your parents cooed
What a treasure! So beautiful.
And as you got older and you were quick to read.
Shes so talented they said. Ahead of the curve.
But as your pace slowed to match the others,
You can hear the disappointed words of your mother.
When you raised the bar so high you yourself could not reach
You did not realize this was a permanent arrangement.
And so golden child, golden child, you began to fall.
For you tied your worthiness of being loved to your performance.
And so when you sometimes struggled to keep pace,
Tears born of failure, tarnished your golden face.
Evening Poems: Battles
I love you
Coming from the wrong person
Those words feel like a weapon
And twenty swords drawn, aimed at your heart,
Just waiting for the precise moment to thrust.
You do not trust the person you love to love you back in a gentle way
A way that is good for your soul.
No, they are the type of person that will hit you, all while dripping good intentions like blood from a wound.
Punch you in the stomach while softly telling you that you are their world.
And the tragedy is, they often mean it. But cannot see beyond their own red hands.
The special pain of oblivious lovers.
Am I cursed to love the ignorant?
Perhaps so. For you are a poison that smells of Roses and I drink you in all the same.
Evening Poems: Victorious
The many victories of a healthy mind
Are In the small things I’ve come to find.
Nails no longer bitten to nubs
Flesh and blood and hangnail stubs.
I buy myself a coffee with little guilt.
And By midmorning, I no longer wilt.
Hunger is something I actually feel.
Food can be enjoyed, senses real.
I can sleep and wake with the sun.
And I feel full when the day is done.
Even if I haven’t exactly changed the world.
I was not lost in a sickening whirl.
I saw my coffee thick with cream.
Walked barefoot in a little stream.
I saw the rain fall in a mist.
Along the pane the water kissed.
These things weren’t lost on me- I saw them all.
I couldnt before- I was too busy with my fall.
These are the victories of a healthy mind.
All the little things that you can find.
Flowers
I wrote a reversible poem! Read it Forwards and then Backwards!
I’ll love you forever
So I gave you flowers
The church bells rang
Till death do us part.
To Never to be severed from.
My darling it’s you I never want
To lose
To love is
To feel my heart beat stop in my chest.
I hear those fateful words
My head spins.
I’ll never forget
This
What did I ever do to deserve
You
It begins and ends with
Flowers
Evening Poems: Nature Girl
Field girl, field girl,
You belong to grass of the field
A gentle power you’ll wield
That many will seek to destroy
You have gold in your hair
Eyes of honey so fair
Dont let them take your heart.
Sea girl, sea girl,
Many will try to tread your depth
And come up short of breath
It is not your fault they never learnt to swim.
You have salt in your blood
For You are the flood
That bathes the world in blue.
Storm girl, storm girl.
Your voice is thunder
You’ll leave them to wonder,
Where your power lies.
There is force in your will,
Rain water does fill,
Your throat and spills through your eyes.
Evening Poems: Nest
I wish my brain would let me rest
But instead its such a pest
In my mind, it weaves a nest
Threads of lies and old regrets.
I pray to God this is a test
Unwelcomed thoughts only a guest.
A temporary, void distress.
And not a permanent life long unrest.
All these fears I have confessed.
Yet I must act as if I’m blessed.
Even if this weight I’ll detest.
A burden to bear at his request.
Evening Poems: Runaway
I just want to run away
And start something new
A blank slate of a town
Where I’m known by few.
And I want a new name
Maybe I’ll dye my hair red.
Go by Joselyn or maybe even Rebecca instead.
The new wardrobe is next
New jackets and dresses.
Leaving behind the old me and all her old messes.
I want a new apartment
That overlooks a city
Decorated in plants and decor I think is pretty.
But even if I did all this,
Would it even work?
You cant run from yourself and all that hurts.
Because even in a new town, new city, new flat, new name,
The heart that beats in my chest
Is still the same.
By the Brooke 