it's cold and i can't feel my hands,
did you sleep well?
i tried to go to bed,
but my mind was wide awake.
i know stress has been consuming you,
are you okay?
life has a strange sense of humor,
sometimes when i can't sleep,
i listen to rain sounds with a little thunder.
a few months ago,
i listened to sounds of whales
under the ocean,
what kind of frequency will your soul have today?
do you still think about him
and why didn't it work?
you once told me
that love can't be forced.
love should feel like unwashed chalk art -
even the rain doesn't want to get rid of true beauty,
i'm sorry that i get quiet sometimes,
i guess i value my alone time.
you give great advice,
but you never take your own.
you need to get some rest,
coffee will only work for so long.
and then you're back at work,
you and i, we're quiet alike.
we like to stay busy.
that's the thing about being busy though,
when it's time to climb into bed,
our thoughts don't understand
the functions of pillows and blankets
when we've got so much unfinished business
with ourselves,
and it's such an awful thing to feel.
that inevitable feeling of loneliness
likes to remind us that we came on earth
and one day when we die,
will we be alone too?
it's cold and my nose is running,
it's bright and early and the sun is out,
but my brain prefers my depression
be a night that started great,
but ended horribly.
I wish i had an on and off switch
for my feelings,
some days i want to pour
water into the outlet,
and turn everything off
even if it's only for an hour or two,
sometimes my heart feels
like a single grain of sand in a desert.
it doesn't rain around here,
but when it does,
i always make sure that your chalk art is safe.
if love makes us feel at home,
on the days that i want to sleep forever -
i think about you and i choose life
YOU ARE READING
memento mori // poetry
Poetry" remember that you have to die " memento mori - /məˌmɛntəʊ ˈmɔːri/ noun an object kept as a reminder of the inevitability of death, such as a skull
