This…

This heart’s been left lonely
Tossed out in the cold
Nothing left to warm me
Nor a hand to hold
My silence is deceiving
As it lies in wait
Deciding its worth
What lies with my fate
But out here in the cold
Where I sit and suffer
Another heart grown colder
Just another bitter lover

Loss of words

I absolutely hate when the perfect combination of words pops up in your head in the most inconvenient of times. I was in the bathroom, starting to wash my face, and I thought of the prefect line for a poem. I thought to myself that I would remember it when I got out, but I didn’t. I know it was great, and it pisses me off that I lost it. I hope it comes back to me in thought tonight as I sleep and I am able to remember it in the morning. I really hate when a thought evades me like that. Like I am expected to stop the world around me in order to write something down. What nonsense is that?  Oh well, here’s hoping it comes back to me…

The Outsider

It is hard being the outsider. It is hard for me to stand behind the glass. Watching all of my friends moving on without me, being happy, and having fun and I am here stuck watching from a distance. I hate that I have purposefully let go of people I love and care about because it hurts too much to be so far away from them. I hate that the hurt was too much to deal with. I try not to think about it so much anymore, but it sneaks back in my train of thought every now and again. I miss some of them. I try not to, but I do. Just because I have let them go doesn’t mean that I don’t care. On the contrary, I care a lot. I care so much that not being able to actively participate in their life has pulled me away. I feel like they deserve friends who can be there. I seclude myself in hopes not to hurt myself or any other person. I may have done just the opposite. But I can’t change things, I can’t perform magic tricks or miracles. I don’t have a private jet, and I certainly don’t have a set of wings to lift me up and get me there to apologize. What is there to do. I try to reach out and pull my hand back before they notice. I guess the fear that my hand will be rejected if they did see it weighs me down. But maybe I worry too much over nothing. I don’t see anything on the other side saying they feel the same as I do. I don’t see a hand reaching out for me. I haven’t seen a spot of effort on their behalf trying to get ahold of me. Maybe I am just blind, or maybe I see things clearer than the glass I hide behind. I miss things, and people, and conversations. I miss the pictures and the memories, and the texts. I miss getting out and actually seeing people smile in person and not through a facebook post. Part of me just wants to be on the receiving end of everything. I put myself here for a reason, but even I don’t truly know that reason anymore. The glass has fogged over from getting to close. My visions have blurred and my words are muffled. I stand here and the only thing I see these days is a rugged reflection of myself beyond the smoke and mirrors. I no longer see things for what they are. I suppose maybe I am jaded, fading into a vaste array of self pity and loathing. Maybe I am meant to remain on the outside. Perhaps this is as close as I can get. I wipe away my thoughts and wants and wishes with every wipe of the glass. I guess I will pull up a chair, I am going to be here for awhile anyways. Staring, wondering, just how it feels to be on the inside.

No inspiration

Lately I haven’t been angry, or happy, or sad. I have just been. I am here, existing in a dull little bubble right now. I find no inspirations, no words fit to put on a page. I have no idea when I will be back to writing anything worth reading, but hopefully its not forever. Thank you for sticking with me for this long. 🙂

Again…

I am losing grip again
starting to slip again
I trip over my words
over and under
under and over
my thoughts flow 
like water through a sieve
drip
   drip
      drip
I am but a blip 
in the radar
just a ship amongst the sea
and I am losing grip again
starting to slip again
beginning to tear again
to rip apart my seams
nothing
is 
 as 
  it
seems
my lips say nothing
until I am stripped of everything