Cant Write - Blog Posts

Sooo, broke my elbow.

0/10, don’t recommend.

I tell you, I tell you not.

I love you, and I think you love me.

But that's how far it gets, so I put it in poetry.

I write about you sometimes.

Hide my truth within similes, metaphors, and rhymes.

Of hushed conversations in a crowded place

Memorizing each thing so I can later retrace.

You ask me how I feel when I'm with you.

Like I'm in a cellophane bubble of a soft pink hue,

La vie en Rose

A dopamine doze

You ask me what I think of you.

Words to which I wish I knew

Universe pulled a few invisible strings,

Put you in my life to change everything.

We stand inches close yet light years away.

Cliche!

We stay long enough to touch, not enough to hold

The world is unfair, or so I'm told.

So I pretend your smile doesn't put me in slumber.

Memorize lines on your hand as one would with numbers.

You ask me why I hold back. I say I'm scared.

What I hold back is what I'm scared of:

It's not being unable to find the right words for what I feel

It's being able to say the right words and never heal.

I love you, but I don't tell.

I try to show you, like casting a gentle spell.

Through metaphors and rhymes

And words that were written by dead poets sometimes.

SCRIBBLE AND SCRATCH

With a cup of tea, a pen, and my book

I sat to write at my favorite nook.

Head filled with voices trying to get out,

And a heart humming with tunes of doubt.

I scribble, and scratch then my words fade,

As I suppress the thoughts that make me afraid.

So I go back to the books that give me relief.

To find my answers within someone else's grief.

There are many problems within these books.

And in that world, solutions aren't mine to look

Within worn-out, annotated, and yellow pages,

I forget my fright as I did for ages.

Soon I'm drawn back to my nook

Holding on to empty pages of the notebook

I scribble, and scratch but the words don't fade

For I've let my thoughts out of its shade.