World Mental Health Day/ A Poem

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We’re holding on as tightly as we can.
Fingers gripping on to feeble articles of meaning,
Trying to ground ourselves within this mess of this spinning globe we call The Earth. Continue reading

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Infatuation, Empty| A Poem

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You make the sky blush
Irises erupting In shades of burning brown
Misery, in multitudes
Dripping from the cracks in your soul.

Unsettling truths that seem to shine through
Curtains of all your stories
Stitched in silk.

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Maybe In Ten Years|A Poem

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I’ll be sipping coffee on my own,
The hours will pass by.
I’ll stare at the sky and then.
The radiant glow of street lights reflecting from the charcoal grey roads.

I’ll wave at my shadow and surly it’ll wave back at me.
With lanky arms and legs stretched too far.
I’ll sit on the rooftop of my tiny house.
Make up conversations in my head.
Ones I’ll probably never have.

Maybe I’ll even light up a cigarette, or two.
Try to smoke my thoughts away.
I’ll pull out my phone and write poetry.
And it won’t be great, it might even be awful.
But I’ll tell myself to keep going.

And I’ll think of my mother, how much I love her.
My little brother, how I practically raised him.
I’ll think about time and death but most importantly, life.
I’ll be able to look back, take a peak into the past,
Without flinching or crying.

I’ll be able to think of him without wanting the world to end.
Then I will smile at myself.
For being so strong.
Breathing when it felt like my lungs were on fire.
Laughing with tears of agony gliding down my cheeks.
I’ll finally be proud of me.-H

Warmth Wrapped In November Chills |A Poem

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He was warmth.
Cloud soft skin as my fingers traced the plains of his chest.
His hair, a calamitous mess of hazel curls.
Cyclones drift in my stomach, his touch pouring them life.

He was the snow in July.
A complex combination of surprise.
His words could make gardens grow out of my chest.
Water the lilies and tulips and God knows how many others in my mind.

The ones he helped plant in the darkest of times.
And he would hold me tight.
Draw circles and keep drawing them on my thighs.
To stop my thoughts from flowing the wrong side.

He was the heat when I knew nothing but the cold.
Freezing palms, he would set fire to my problems.
As my tears became kerosene fueling the flames within.

He was the winter when it became too warm to breathe.
Clearing the claustrophobic feeling in my chest.
Ice melting its way inside to cure fevers resting on my body.
Because he was warmth wrapped in November Chills.

He was every season in itself.
Every feeling excelled. And emotions so deeply rooted in one.
He was fire and ice.
Quite intriguingly combined.-H

And I Am..|A Poem

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And I have been known to make queasy hearts quake.
To make saddened eyes grow wide for a moments sake.
Before they go back to being deprived.
Of light in the darkest days.

For I have been a magnet.
Pulling with force, tugging at the edges of disaster.
Arms open wide, to catch those who are built in fright.
Only to drop them, watch them fall from wavering heights.

I am drawn to hearts caved in.
Hollow and thin.
Purpose searching souls.
Those who collapse with the sound of thunder.
Before it even strikes.

And I envy the happy.
Because I am just as stained as those around me.
So we grab each other to help elevate the ache.
Grab each other to make the loneliness go away.-H