My thoughts got lost in a space bar,

Once

I just kept moving on

Losing myself

In a space bar bounce

Forgetting what I’d done.

Punctuating every story

With another drink

Only the sound of the space bar thud

Allowed my mind to think.

I’m not your type

The lady said

As I threw her a question mark.

To cap it all

She didn’t smile

So I just pressed delete.

You were a piece of my heart

With a jagged edge

Cutting me open

Your emotions like a wedge

My heart has healed

Each beat makes me stronger

Strangers we have become

Distance between us longer

Dear Pen and Paper

You have my words and my sentiments rolled down in vapor...

I’d say: “see you later”

but the moment is now; so don’t be a stranger.

I heard the echo,

I just didn’t feel like dealing with the words.

Dear Pen and Paper,

Have you any idea of what you do?

Do you have the slightest clue?

I write and spray words like bullets,

Yet there you remain.

Nothing needs to cover you, for it seems you are my shield.

Or maybe a punching bag…

I’d say: “see you later”,

but I have you now,

take me where the grass perspires...

take me where there are no boundaries,

so I may stretch my arms wide, and so I may hug the lies.

The words that I scribble, seem to cause fires( I say let them burn)

In Autumn the words felt like they began to fall, every time I stood up to do the emptiest tasks I could hardly cope, I could never do much on my own.

I stood away from you because I felt that I needed to breathe , to lay in bed for another hour so I could finally bloom, but how can anything grow when there is no sun to cover you?

I never let go of the shadows that followed me in the night, I kept running in a constant loop.

I was a star in a show I could hardly continue acting in, I wanted a better role.

Dear Pen and Paper,

I spoke to you at my most dire of times,

I read aloud, or not so much, the perpetual tower of words that continued stacking.

I wanted to let you know that I’m not tired of you,

I have you not a mile away,

“I drip with excellence”- Or so I think you say,

I tried the book of ages,

But why should I pray?

I need but two entities in my hands.

This letter has had its cup half full, but I don’t like to exceed the midpoint,

I find it best to stop when a smile has peaked.

I gravitated toward you!

So please listen once more.

Dear Pen and Paper,

I’ve known you well since my hands could dribble you across the theatrical court.

I sat down as a child curious of what you had intended,

now I see.

It was

therapy.

In grief,

Every man, woman or child can turn to poetry,

For relief.

The Eulogy.

The pain, written, rhyming.

So the poet must be in eternal grief.

An eternal state of magnetic thought.

The writer must write,

The critics matter not.

The praise either.

The writer must write,

As tomorrow and death must come.

Don’t fear either,

For they both laugh at your yearning for control.

But they respect your respect of them with an honesty,

An honesty inside the certainty that they’ll both come.

Death is as inevitable as living itself.

Embrace it as you do life.

For sometimes, to embrace, is to truly let go.

Going

where the action isn’t …

away from crowds

& care

where

no dust settles

at dusk—

but rather

with dawn’s first air.

there’s a spark that

electrocutes through me

a gasp

a shivering breath

music that tingles

through my senses

your voice on my skin

tracing a thousand feelings,

through your kisses, on my soul

stars spilling through your

smiles. warmth.

and i am tumbling and falling to you

like the earth to the sun.

with no escape from this fate.

See me.

Unnoticed, alone,

drowning in a sea of faces,

adrift on my own.

A crowded bus

where eyes never meet,

but if your gaze meets mine

what would you see?

You know not the trials I’ve endured,

but would you see a life

comparable to yours?

Would you say anything?

We part ways and so we never meet,

like the wind and autumn leaves.

Your eyes shone with aknowledgement,

but

did you really see me?

.

. .

. . .

And lost...

as the more

that we were

gasping for

. . .

Torn out

of the breath

in the air

that’s been left

. . .

...On a

current that

buoyed us...

under..

. . .

. .

.

#Tears #Challenge

Monsters hiding the closet

Monsters underneath the bed

Monsters crawling out of the faucet

Monsters screaming in my head

Monsters with tails and an eye

Monsters with a crooked smile

Monsters that make the kiddies cry

Monsters wreaking havoc per mile

Monsters exist all around

Monsters can be real or fake

Monsters appear to you without sound

Monsters are the beings we make

#poetry #short #micropoem #monsters