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Friday, August 1, 2014


I want to throw the truth out of my mind, but I'm afraid a friend will reach out on a reflex and catch it. I want to say I'm not okay, without those words slipping out and hanging on for dear life to your smile,

until its weight is too much for your sweet smile to bear
 and the words fall--leaving a frown there.

I don't want to lie.
I want to tell you there are nights that I cry

And cry
And cry
And cry

I camp out in my room
With worry
And we forget to close the door
And a gang called "fear" comes galloping in,
 wearing masks that even closed eyes can see
The end of the world is just behind them

As they get closer and closer
The end of the world
Is still just behind them

I get lost searching for my breath
Surrounded by a forest of death

And that's not the kind of neighborhood
I want to walk a beautiful soul
 like you through

So I leave you a map
To a false place
With the design of
A happier face

Maybe one day
I'll meet you there

If I could sleep long enough
to dream a way out
of this nightmare

Maybe one day
 I'll meet you there


  1. I sense a sense of urgency here, to the point, procrastinating toward any form of relief is most likely mutually self defeating. What you deem a brick wall, may only appear as an opportunity for a bank shot by someone else. And, of course, there is that "strength in numbers" thing.

  2. There is strength in numbers. You're right. I'm trying to be more open...It's going to take some getting used to.

  3. Fear is a terrible thing. It makes even SIMPLE things, seem impossible (especially at night). Crying is a wonderful release though, and if you literally close the door, before you do it, you can leave that sadness in the room, and take a bold, fearless step out, in the morning. XOXO Poetry is maybe the best release of all-loved this!

    1. That's exactly it, Jackie! I'm sure a lot of this are scenarios my mind is creating...things that will most likely not happen, and I fight with it back and forth with "what if it does" and try to reassure myself that it's going to be okay one way or another.

  4. To me, it seems like there's no room for sadness in our culture because sadness is uncomfortable. If we do let our truths be heard there's always someone there to try and cheer you up. But I think it's okay to be sad--to feel the full gamut of human emotions--even necessary at times. I think it's best to let those truths out somehow, but I'm not very good at that myself. To avoid laying burdens on others I lie and paint a face, or simply stay quiet, though I know that's not the best solution. But what's a better solution? Journaling perhaps? Finding someone who will listen without trying to fix things? I don't know. Poetry does help, to a certain extent, but not completely; not for me.


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