Poetry Blogs (abandoned)

Feeling down
because my muse
abandoned me again.
Maybe to teach me
another lesson
about leaning on him,
instead of mining inspiration
from deep within.
Seeking satisfaction
outside ourselves
is perhaps the greatest sin.
It is a game no one wins.
So, back to the blank page I go.
Just me and my pen.

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I’m losing my mind.

Don’t you understand?

I’m desperately reaching out for your hand.

Don’t leave me hanging, slipping, falling…

down into the endless abyss of darkness,

Never destined to land.

You’ve saved me once before,

But this time there are no safety ropes.

I’m free-falling, plummeting, going down…

My only hope Is for you to save me now.

I’m losing my ...

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They see me

Without a word

Through the sea white mist

Slow silent slip away

They see me

An empty vessel

Adrift from my moorings

Fading to the horizon

To move, like night, from sea to sea

They see me

Haze distanced

Lost to all and love

Hull down, alone

Eternally to drift

To tide or current whim

Sometime becalmed

Drifting

Sometime storm blasted

D...

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Alone, abandoned, overlooked. 

I wake up to a never ending nightmare that I call life.

Insecurities and anxieties blare in as the alarm goes off.

Snooze. Snooze. It's all a ruse, I try to hit snooze in hopes to avoid the nightmare but in this terrible wake there is no snooze so I think, "What is there to lose?"

There's the mistake, don't think, do.

Overthinking leads to overanalyzin...

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I caught you peeking through the window,

Of this old abandoned house,

Finely crafted from the dreams I left behind.

I stopped you dead in your tracks,

The tracks I once wandered when I discovered this realm.

How did you find me through this smoke?

It was much to blinding for me.

You took my hand and walked away,

Only pulling half of me with you.

If just for a moment...

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I am waiting for the day that you will show up at my door

With a flower for every birthday you missed.

Twenty-one flowers of vibrant colors—

Turquoise, violet, “tickled pink”—

They will spread their pedals in the warm spotlight

That will touch every inch of my cold, pale skin.

The features of my face will be illuminated.

I will no longer be the infant you left—

The life tha...

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