Little Bird Poetry

Your name snakes it's way down my tongue Twisting about like a dancer on stage A performance that makes a frequent debut  Through the ivory curtains Only once is it held back For the prompting question "What if you two did not exist in the same time?" What if you did not exist at the same time as me? Your soul never gracing mine with its blessed existence? I would want for you Even though I had never seen you I would reach through empty folds in the sheets Seeking your body  Hands outstretched  Seeking the deep sense of comfort you provide I would daydream of snippets of the way you laugh Chasing your figure through the fields of grain in my mind So close my fingertips would brush Never quite meeting the mark I would search for your beauty in the sunsets I would search for your scent in the warm summer wind I would search for the love that ties us together until my last breath. "Thank god, in this lifetime that they are here with me, for what good would my soul be if...

To wonder is to want. To hope is to hurt. To love is to lose. Why is it that they all have to do with you?

 I'm so tired of fighting And of fighting being tired I have fought And been fought I'm so tired of the arguments Tired of wasting my time On people who don't have care to give And giving care to those who only take Most days I simply watch the hands tick Ticking down on the time I have left The stress has built Since the hands have stopped And I own a silent watch Watching makes it worse I play the same songs Looking for the emotions they once held Listening to the feelings of having someone to hold me Tell me they'll never go But the words are just as empty as the air Even though they continue to echo What to do what to do As I stare at my screen while the rest of my world sleeps The darkness holds me in place Just as hands once have More times unwilling than wanted The words float through my mind across the keys To people who read simply to see the words Never knowing quite what I mean Anyone's guess just as good as the next But never quite right As no one stays ...

 The land of the pines The one that I left you in Never gets any easier Each passing day  A constant reminder An ache I can't shake A hole I'll never fill I always feel like I wonder at what once was Or what could've been It is all in vain Just as it has always been I have never been a believer in soulmates But loss I feel pangs my heart Pulling Snapping Ripping strings A wretched  Broken song  Coming forth from the echoing depths of the hole you left. What does one do when faced with the haunting reflection of the what if The maybe The might've been The never will be? What do we do I run in circles Over and over again Unsure Blind Reaching out for the one who once gave me sight In this world of darkness My body fails me day in and day out My chest aches with the weight of pain unfelt Sorrow unheard Feelings that make demand to be felt Met by deaf ears I am hurting enough I feel my chest swell  The rest caving in I find no rest or solace I feel like it will come...

 Sitting on the front stoop Remaining warmth seeping through the bricks Bricks that built the foundation of us Soaking in the last few minutes of the sun The chorus of cicadas and crickets A cacophony of beautiful sound The backdrop to some of our most important conversations Gravel pricking my bare feet as I walk out to watch the sun set The moon rise Signaling each passing day Month Year  That passed as we grew Growing in odd angles and shapes Never really knowing what to prune and what to nurture That was the killer in the end.

 Years of my life flash before my eyes.  Each moment farther apart than the last. I feel like I am asleep. Moments of clarity, like a futile gasp above the waves.  I forget, often, that I am drowning.  Fighting death with a body that no longer recognizes me as its master. In those brief moments of lucidity, All I can do is weep as I see how my face has aged, my body had changed and my environment becomes more foreign.  I meet only eyes that speak her name. Hands that have held “her” flesh. Ears that hear only her voice. Every inch catches fire as the thoughts creep in.  I don’t know if I’ll ever escape.  I feel as though I am doomed to catch the faintest glimpses of another woman taking my place in the world. Over And over. Will I ever have the chance to love and be loved as myself? Or will the world only hold its arms wide for the proxy? When will I wake?  Will it be too late? How long must I live in the shadows of a stolen life? If I did fight a...

 Empty. Each day mirroring the last. A never ceasing rotating door of monotony. I always wake to the same  Falling asleep to the cries of exhaustion and the haunting feeling that my life amounts to nothing.  I feel no greater sense of anything these days. A pitifully faint pulse emanates from my thin neck. Two fingers shaking as they lower in acceptance.  I told myself it would never get this bad again.  God, is it still a sin to lie if it is only to myself?

Existing in the split. The somewhere in between. The weight of cognitive thought is one even the beast should turn away. Eventually the burden will break the strongest of backs. Should one ponder the purpose of existence  Or Simply fade into the noise? For which choice in curse is to be deemed more noble? The curse of Cain? Letting it swell forth, beckoning one to carry on, Foot over foot, Mile after mile,  In search of meaning in a world without? Or, The curse of monotony?  Moving forward not as an independent thinking life, But as another in the masses? Simply accepting fate as a non-introspective knot in the net of life? Shall I never cease in my wandering to seek purpose or force myself to be content in the sensation of emptiness?