pick
wildflowers
until
everything
feels
a little more
okay.
- they have some kind of supernatural element of healing to them.
...
wait for someone
who realizes
your worth or beauty isn't in how you look
plucked
in their hands.
wait for someone who will appreciate
the fact you are capable of blooming all by yourself.
the one that is meant to stay
will come alongside you
instead of uprooting you.
- i was plucked on january 19, 2020
...
home pt. 2 (a continuation from a poem from blue)
i called it, i called it, i called it.
you promised i was home, you promised you wouldn't leave when the darkness hit and the fire went out.
and now i'm waking up,
the space i had so carefully prepped for you
ruined,
messy,
used.
the bed has clearly been slept in,
trash on the floor is more profuse than your presence is,
dishes are left where they were used,
the window blinds are disheveled.
the only area that is neat
is where all of your belongings were,
your suitcase was packed and is gone now,
your toothbrush no longer sits in that dinky cup in the bathroom,
you're never going to rest your head on my pillow ever again.
that's the only part of the room you thought to leave presentable.
i look down and i am wearing an oversized man's dress shirt,
hair just as disheveled as the blinds,
and my face feels aged by tears i can't remember crying.
as if they're something permanent running along the same grooves as my skin.
i'm confused and can't remember much.
where did you go?
and
when did i become room service
for my own heart?
YOU ARE READING
ruby
Poetrypoems about the next stage of my life, hopefully about new experiences but also about hanging onto something the heart has desperately longed for and isn't quite ready to give up
