It’s known that hurting people hurt other people. Intentionally and unintentionally. Your traumas will always be a part of you but you get to decide how you carry them. Do you learn from them? Do you let them change you into a better more loving, compassionate, and giving person? Or do you carry them in…
My thoughts, so many Hung like strings Dripping a quality I could not pinpoint I felt at this moment I must bear fully The abrupt pains They presented Like unwelcome visitors Of the utmost distinction Like fraying golden threads In a very important seam However, I couldn’t shake The scheming I felt Attached to…
I feel liquid Flowing Further away From solid Emotions drift Muscles relax And I escape For a moment Deeper into you
I sit most of my day Looking at you I’m dependent on you The only person That cares about you You hold so much info I’d be totally lost Completely confused Up a muddy creek If anything happened To the intelligence You possess You hold the lock And I literally Hold the key
Poetry taught me to listen to my own tears. Decipher why I felt what I felt. It helped me hold onto myself during my darkest fights with depression. If you could write a love letter to poetry what would it say? Feel free to write one and leave a link to it in my comment…
I’ve always felt like a small piece Like there is a place waiting For the exact right shape To fit within its little void I feel a part of the sun Of the swaying trees Of the raging storms And the crashing sea A part of so many things But never fully have I fit…
The days slowly crawl From sunrise to sunset The same words echo Until they fall silent The sky mourns us With determined drops That fall heavy Even maybe a bit angry At our solitude Because Even heaven understands Our torment at being apart
I saw a butterfly/moth on my bedroom window screen. It was beautiful. I’m glad for the day. For the steps I’ll take. For my daughter and for my person. For my family and friends. Recognizing the beauty in the day. That’s hard for some of us. It takes practice. Today I am finding beauty in…
I was thinking about our ancestors. All of them. The cultures and the sacrifices made for the good of the next to come. And who we are now. What we will leave behind. My dreams Turned into fiery butterflies Colorful pin points of light Dancing free among stars Until a strong wind came And blew…
A looking glass Made of bubbles Sat and stared A thousand eyes Full of color My color Was black Your color Was white And together We held The entire Spectrum Between us
HASTYWORDS 