Tag: poets

Worn

We cannot explain the way that words can hit us like snow
Falling from worn rooftops;
Jack frost is not always lingering
And the pain is always hindering;
Words are the shattered glass
That we try our best to handle with care;

Words of Warmth

​There has to be a way that we can achieve the skill of giving,
For more than the reason being
Just to look good
It does feel good, doesn’t it?
Not because it looks good,
But because it feels warm;
The sun can burn us to a dark crisp in the summer months,
But that does not mean
That we should fear the warmth
That comes with kindness;

Painful Trifling and the Soul’s Death (PTSD)

No matter our strength,
No matter our endurance,
There will always come moments
When we break-
When we are too tired from all we’ve given
To remember how to take-
To remember how to wake,
And our eyes water the skin that covers up the empty space inside,
And our minds convince us that our souls are dried,
That our hearts have been fried,
That our purposes have died;

Am I consuming too much space,
Is that why you needed to get inside?
Or did you think I had something to hide,
Like this body that you shamed after having your fun?
I’m sorry for breathing this air
That was clearly meant for you;

I’m sorry this space cannot be filled
With that naked woman on the screen,
But go ahead and try to pretend with me;
I’m sorry that I have to fill in to substitute
While you fill inside;
I’m sorry for asking you to stop;
I clearly must exist too much;
How dare I think that I deserve anything better than your hands in memorable places;

Out of the Shadows

​Sometimes, the leaves fall off of the trees sooner than they’re meant to;
Sometimes, they’re picked up and swept away by something greater;
Sometimes, we don’t realize that it is the light that hides our scars and lines,
And our courage for stepping out of the shadows is what we should love ourselves for
What happens to us does not define us,
It’s how we make do with the happenings;
And the most beautiful part of him is that he doesn’t think that she is broken;

Grand

​Have you ever met someone
Whose tragedies fit yours like a grand puzzle,
Whose never been through what you went through,
But understands
And all he needs do is to touch your hand
And your tragedies will fall,
Like a grand chandelier from a ceiling so tall,
To the ground and shatter,
And all of your traumas are mixed together
In broken pieces,
While you admire them from above,
And you no longer need tape,
You no longer dream of glue,
Because he is touching your hand;
Do you understand?

Have you ever met someone
Whose eyes fill all the empty spaces of your soul,
And whose arms fill all the empty space around you,
Whose arms are the glue,
Whose arms are the puzzle pieces you have been feeling under couches for,
Who has been right in front of you for months,
Sitting at a table, wondering
If you’re tragic too,
But now it’s grand
Do you understand?

Breathing Lessons

​Inhale,
Inhale;

You wonder when you get to exhale,
Because every time that you try,
You fall;

The sky goes black
And the walls turn back,
To flee;

The nightmares,
From which you are consumed,
Have resumed to their primal
Hunting instincts;

Don’t forget to exhale;
Don’t forget to exhale;

Don’t let the sky turn black;
Don’t bring that period back;

You are living proof
That it is possible to any length,
To feel fragile,
While embracing strength;