How many poems
Celebrating are to come
In days that remain
Hoping to connect
Just hearing those around me
I remain silent
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How many poems
Celebrating are to come
In days that remain
Hoping to connect
Just hearing those around me
I remain silent
Maybe the destination
Won’t be acceptance after all
Maybe it won’t be calm
Won’t be peace
Won’t be love…
Stormy skies pound down onto dark shorelines
Anger whips branches and brambles to and fro
Thunder and lighting tear the sky into pieces
Echoing a desperate rage
Found in any lifetime of faulty connections
Dark clouds oppressive with no end in sight
Mix with a melancholy
Only the perpetually lonely can understand…
Finally, a few
Just a few
So little
But enough to find the shame
No matter how many poems
No matter how many tears
No matter how much catharsis
I’m still me
Exactly as I feared the most
November 15, 2024
Innate loneliness
Decision wants to be made
To stay or to go
Wouldn’t it hurt far less
in the grand scheme of everything
if, instead…
For now, this place remains
Deep in my dreamscape
A fantasy to indulge…
Born some years ago
Today I celebrate him
Great friend and ally
Empty eyes staring
Why do they resist me still
So close to my shore
How is it that the feelings of others
Usually so obscure
Can at times be so much clearer
So much sharper around the edges
Than what’s inside my own core…