:::Poetry:::
Missing
Awkward moments...
Why can't it just flow?
Childish behavior from adults.
Are we adults?
I can't think. I can't speak.
Everything is changing.
It's too much to take in.
I feel connected...
But I'm all alone.
Childish. Awkward.
I miss you.
Writing
Do I write for myself or for other people?
I mean, writing is an outlet for me, but do I really want someone to come
along and read my piece and say, "I completely get you now."
The thing is, they won't.
Not the real me.
Even in my writing I censor myself.
Someone is always watching.
Spiral
A memory.
A smile.
A thought.
That happy moment.
I thought it was over.
I'm sucked in again.
I spiral; I can't stop.
I spiral; I never want to stop.
I spiral
Spiraling yet again...
Because of you.
Lies Blatant lies. Misunderstandings.
Challenge the best of me. Challenge the worst of me. Deceptive truths. I give
up. I'm done. I don't belive.
Lights
I can see a light from my bunk bed. It's bright; changing colors. Red, green,
purple. Brilliant pinks, blues, glaring yellow and searing red. Fluidly changing
from one spectrum to another. That light shines on a stage. Creates an atmosphere.
I wonder about the people there. Do their moods change with each hue? Or are
they immune? Lost in their own worlds. That light isn't on tonight. I'm scared.
The comfort is gone. I'm sad. The moment is over. The light is out.
Risked
Indesicion strikes again.
What do I have to gain?
All could be lost.
My heart, my love, my trust
at risk.
The light seems closer now.
The situation seems clearer now.
I can breathe again.
Life is back.
But indecision will strike again.
Open
Is opening up the first step or the last?
If I open up now, do I risk more?
If I open up later, do I risk all?
These thoughts fly through my mind.
Trust is a hard thing.
Not easy by any means.
I'm here to grow, to learn...to love.
I want to trust. I do.
But my heart fails me.
Another block from the truth.
Uneven
My nails are uneven. I had to cut them down
to play guitar. I'm no good though. I sit and I practice in an attempt to
appear more interesting. Attractive. I use that word too much. But I feel
consumed by it. It's not the lust; it's that connection I long for...that
connection I seek. Do I connect to him? I am attracted to him. Therefore we
connect. At least I'd like to think so. My mind whirls with conversations
we've never had, moments we've never shared, connections never made. Am I
doing it again? Am I buying into my own delusion? This time, I don't want
the delusion. I want the truth. I cut my nails for this shit?
Attraction
It's there.
We both know it.
Stolen glances.
Captivating smiles.
They build and grow into...
Does fear grip both parties?
Or are my doubts one-sided?
I write, and I love, and I think, but no answer arrives.
Answer the unspoken question.
Before it's too late.