“Things are different these days,”

People are going out of their way to say.

Holding their little ones a little tighter as they whisper “everything will be okay”.

Skies are clearer and the world is healing but we can’t enjoy it for the fear of breathing.

People and their greed are making it hard to take care of basic needs.

While other people are sacrificing their own lives to support us in this time of uncertainty.

Prayers are being said from every side of the globe.

Other people are screaming at the top of their lungs because they are tired of being alone.

Masks and gloves are the newest of fashion.

Sadly everyone is over looking the eyes full of immense fear or passion.

Chests are tight from a multitude of things.

Whether it’s the virus or heavy from grief.

Things are so hard and no one knows what do do.

But to stay behind closed doors and hope it doesn’t get you too.

With love we push through hoping it will all go away.

Wake up one morning and everything be sane.

Smile because today you made it through. Just know tomorrow you may not be so lucky to.

The voices in my head. Constantly screaming, chanting, provoking me with every thought. Torturing me with every daydream. Controlling every bit of my chained heart. Poisoning the blood that once passionately flowed freely through my veins. Darkening my once vibrant soul. And with every shrieking cry allowing the fowl monsters out from their depths only to scare away the goddess that once stood tall within me. Inducing the lack of strength I have making the allusion of giving up so much easier. I’m done. I no longer attempt to fight the voices that reluctantly prance around in my head. So instead, I build them a beautiful steeple and make them my choir.

Who is this glaring back at me in the mirror?

I do not recognize her.

With eye bags so dark they look like bruises.

Her belly is no longer flat and her ass is no longer high.

Hidden behind clothes a size to big.

Her posture is horrible and her hair even worse.

Stress getting to her as wrinkles appear on what use to be smooth spots on her face.

Disgusting.

He walks over to me barley reaching my waist.

With warm hands and a firm grip he hugs my thigh.

Heart steadies. Quivers quit. A smile appears.

Looking in the mirror again and realize.

I recognize her now. With him by my side.

It’s me. I’m perfectly imperfect. I’m exhausted. I’m love. I’m a mother. But because of him.

I’m me.

Alone. Yes it said it, cliche I know. But not alone like a million people in a room with no one to talk to... But alone, like a single daisy in a field of weeds. Beautiful, the one thing that catches your eye in the mayhem the weeds have caused. But still alone. Alone like the daring bird who soars the skies. No fellow chirping, no more than two wings and a dream as far as his eyes can see. But still alone. Alone like the solitary star blazing through the universe. Surrounded by many but none at the speed which only this star can reach. Bringing delightful wishes to whomever eyes it may catch. But still alone. See, alone is not a bad thing but merely exquisite time lost and disguised to deepen ones fear of never being content. Not with another but ourselves.

What I would give to be alone.

Sweet nothing’s whispered ever so gently in my ear. Dancing gracefully through my mind like a ballerina continuously twirling in her music box. Reflecting my desires as if it were a fresh dew drop playing hide and seek with the sun as it slides down the perfectly placed creases of a leaf. Burning to my core just like a wild fire, catching everything within its path a blaze with no hesitation or regret. Playfully pulling at my heart strings the way the stars play with shadows to create dreams or nightmares. Sweet nothing’s whispered ever so gently in my ear simply to be nothing at all, disappear.

I walk to my desk, I clock in, I’m fine

I look around, I nod, I sigh

I hear you, I see you, I smile

You walk by, make eye contact, deny me

I try to talk, I choke, I try again

You hear me, don’t notice anything, uneasy

I look down, regroup, regret

You continue on, like we’ve never met

I want to scream, grab you, make you realize

You walk away, push on, quiet

Can you see ,don’t you notice, me

Tired eyes

Scary thoughts

Weary mind

Heavy heart

Goosebump skin

Darkened soul

Just me

Alone

Allow yourself to get lost in the shadows of my soul; can you stand strong? Eye to eye with the monsters that rule those premises.

Breath in the fierce fires that engulf my mind; can you stand strong? Breath through the smoke without suffocating.

Let me guide you to the colossal wall that surrounds my heart; can you stand strong? Crack or climb over my wall without breaking or slipping away.

Take a dive into the poisonous vile that runs through my veins; can you stand strong? Swim through the gunk without drowning and sinking to the bottom.

Stare into the never ending dark abbess some call eyes; can you stand strong? Shine a light into my soul to scare away the monsters. Be my breath of fresh air in the smoke. Build a ladder to get over my walls. Float on the river. Free me from my own darkness. Can you stand strong?

Can you.

Webster’s definition of a hopeless romantic is a person who holds sentimental and idealistic versions on love, especially in spite of experience, evidence, or exhortations otherwise.

So is it hopeless for me to think that a person like me stands a chance with a person like you. That you could feel the way I feel when I am in your presence. Maybe one day you would realize that this could work and you could be happy with little old me.

Is it romantic for me to say that I love staring at the stars because they remind me of your eyes. That reality turns to daydreams when I see your face. Or that my body longs for the slightest brush of your hand. The day is more beautiful when your in it.

So am I. In fact. A hopeless romantic or just simply hopeless in this romance.

Written by: yours truly

Webster’s definition of a hopeless romantic is a person who holds sentimental and idealistic versions on love, especially in spite of experience, evidence, or exhortations otherwise.

So is it hopeless for me to think that a person like me stands a chance with a person like you. That you could feel the way I feel when I am in your presence. Maybe one day you would realize that this could work and you could be happy with little old me.

Is it romantic for me to say that I love staring at the stars because they remind me of your eyes. That reality turns to daydreams when I see your face. Or that my body longs for the slightest brush of your hand. The day is more beautiful when your in it.

So am I. In fact. A hopeless romantic or just simply hopeless in this romance.

Written by : yours truly