Tag Archives: night

I don’t think I know anyone

All hearts are foreign to me

Have I ever even loved? Have I ever set someone free

Why do my heartbeats echo just to hurt the ones I need 

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Season

For a brief time,
The sunlight will graze my eyes

And my words will haze and thrive

And the colors will paint my pain

Roses and thorns and stains

The grating will give way to whispers
The blossom will silence the scream

i will reflect on the stars and on wonder
(do you love her?)

Until the aching returns to my dreams. 

An unrequested love poem

It’s moments when I’m doing homework way too late at night, and worship music is playing softly in the background,

And I glancingly think about how I’m not having lunch with you tomorrow because it’s a Wednesday, not a Tuesday or a Thursday,

And there’s this twinge inside and the Thought just rudely pushes past my mental barriers,

Announcing itself and settling and sending its inky self-assured fingers into my heart, where I feel its strength resonate

And I drop my pen and look up and out the dark frosted window in shock, looking for who said those words which pronounced themselves so clearly in my mind, 

but there is only my worn reflection staring back, like the words echoed defiantly out of some faded inner conscious where poems are born and die. 

“I love him.”

So I shake myself and write some shadowy half-formed unfair sentiment about this gripping proclamation

And then I wearily lift a thermometer to my ear and check my temperature once more 

before continuing to copy down my calculus homework from the textbook, unburdened.