Untitled Poetry
I wrote this early last week on a whim on Facebook:
Passion of the heart never dies and the soul contains deep recesses of many facets,
but dismayed to show one,
Can adoration drive out the fear?
Can the walls ever disintegrate and open up completely?
Then my friend Carl Miller added to it:
When adoration evolves, it spreads like the wings of the albatross; mighty and wide.
When those ailerons beat, no fortification may be erected high enough to divide,
No matter the penance,
the trepidation and abhorrence.
Mirror
Thoughtless and listless
confused by a sadness
or is it relief?
Not sure how to feel,
my mind goes back and forth
Am I sad for the good times?
Or am I sad for times that will never be again?
Shall I lie to myself?
Shall I creep in the darkness, fumbling for answers in the dark confines of my soul?
Will I ever know?
Am I beautiful or ugly?
I feel the latter
Not going to change for any soul,
Need to feel beautiful
Haven’t felt beauty in months,
break a mirror
watch it fall into tiny pieces,
then pick up the glass
and maybe put them back together again,
will I then be whole again?
*Originally written September 30th, 2007
Still Heart
My heart has been everywhere,
Trying to find a place,
In a home of someone worthy of my love,
My passion to give my heart has always been taken,
And then thrown back to me in spite,
No one has been able to understand me,
And I wonder if they ever will,
If I ever find that person,
He will be the one to hold my heart still
*Originally written January 27th, 2009
