sometimes they won’t come,
the words that used to be mine,
words I could control.
Now, they tumble out for you
and I don’t want to stop them.
46/365 – A Poem a Day For a Year
Tag: writing
scrawling
I like the pages
filling up
more than I like
what fills them.
But that’s okay,
as long as I
have this pen
scrawling across
the blank paper,
as long as I
have the will
to keep coming back.
43/365 – A Poem A Day For a Year
Old Words
Today I went digging
through the old words
looking for pieces of myself
that you would recognize.
But, I’m not there anymore,
buried under words and bodies,
buried under the weight of them.
I think of the women
who write volumes and then
light them on fire
when the story ends.
Well, I won’t engulf
mine in flames, but
I’m glad they aren’t
burning me anymore.
36/365 – A Poem a Day For a Year
How Does it Feel?
Now you’re the lover
of a lover of words,
a girl who traces
stanzas on your bare chest
and taps out haikus
on her fingertips
when you talk on the phone.
How does it feel
to know you’ll be the one
she writes at least
one hundred poems about,
to know you’re the one
she always thinks of first
whenever she picks up her pen?
33/365 – A Poem a Day For a Year
taunters
blank screens punish me
taunt me with their shiny, white
expanses of hope
31/365 – A Poem A DayFor a Year
