Your gateway to endless inspiration
this is a poem i recently wrote about how someones words can affect a way you look at someone even by not knowing them. yes this is from personal experience, and my partner is aware of it and making sure i feel safe. after some thinking i’m pretty sure it’s just the other person’s words affecting my opinion on this person. they haven’t done anything to me, and i just had a out of the blue nightmare about it which is why i wrote this. read with caution, thank you
if it was a nightmare i had late one night
why must i still feel his breathe on my neck
if it was just a worry
why do i feel eyes watching me as i walk by
if it was just a feeling
why can i still picture his smug grin in the corner of the room
i’ve barely talked to him
he asked for a pencil and smiled
i said sure, only one conversation
one other conversation, one much different
told me how he, the same one was weird and creepy
told me what he is rumored to have done
same man who did those things to me
told me about another man’s doings
why must i believe them?
believe them so deeply
that they haunt my nightmares
haunt what i otherwise would see as a successful young man
one who has a future
but instead people talk
and now even around people i love and cherish
i feel eyes watching
his eyes
his eyes that are blocked by sunglasses
will i ever know if the rumors are true?
i dont think i want to find out
however for now
ill let the man who sits in front of me
ask for a pencil and write his notes in peace
Now I lie in my bed
my window is open wide
I don’t have to be outside to feel the cool breeze
I can hear so much
The wind
The birds
My dog’s breath
My pen on paper
Leaves rustling
Cars rushing by
My brother’s laughter
And the tapping of my own fingers
The sky is turning purple
With the purple comes comes a cloud of calm
And a gust of joy
I want it to stay this way
(Perfect temperature, perfect sounds, perfect peace)
Forever.
In halls of wonder, vast and bright,
Where colors swirl and dance in light,
Where walls stretch high and ceilings soar,
And stories whisper through each door.
Each brush stroke whispers of a tale,
As if the canvas begins to exhale,
A hint of passion, a shred of pain,
The artist's soul within each frame.
From abstract splashes to portraits grand,
The beauty of the world at hand,
In every brush stroke, every hue,
A story painted just for you.
With every step, with every breath,
A masterpiece in every depth,
A world of wonder, there to see,
In each exhibited symphony.
So come and wander, lose yourself,
In halls of magic, in halls of health,
For the joy of art is always here,
In every image, every cheer.
I feel like I am totally invisible. At home and everywhere else. Like I could say something completely earth shattering, and nobody would even acknowledge me.
I feel like everything I do is taken out of context, like I could be with someone who said something wrong, and it would be my fault.
I feel like I will never be right. I can’t trust my own thoughts, so why should I expect others to?
I feel like I can’t share myself fully with anyone because I know that they would leave so fast.
I want to get better, and I am putting so much fucking effort into it. Into being, looking, feeling, smiling, crying better. But it isn't working. At what point is it no longer worth even trying?
I am so glad you are back
That you weren't gone for too long.
But I know it hurts.
The decision you made was hard, and I feel as though I don’t deserve it.
I don’t deserve to be the reason you chose to be happy.
The reason you chose to leave her.
It feels nice, I suppose.
Like coming home.
Like wrapping myself in an old quilt.
But it also feels like exactly what it is.
Coming back to an old friend.
Why?
Why would you suck the color out of life?
Who ever saw a sunset as dull as this?
What cause did you have for stealing the pigment of humanity, if not to hoard it?
What is gained by poisoning a love so true?
Is Godliness not salvation?