"why do you write everyday?"
                              tw: anxiety (mentioned more in detail than my other poems)
                              
                              i write—
                              i drag my pen 
                              across the paper,
                              looping letters
                              to save myself
                              from the tightness—
                              the looping
                              i feel around my neck
                              from an anxiety
                              that never stops
                              pulling tighter,
                              holding me on the verge
                              of an insanity
                              that rips and claws at me,
                              silently, slowly,
                              and somehow
                              the clock
                              continues to tick,
                              dragging me closer
                              to a doom
                              and to an end,
                              and all the words i've penned
                              can only keep me afloat
                              until the rushing tsunami 
                              of demons and darkness and dread
                              pulls me under,
                              and not even you,
                              with your outstretched hand
                              and sun-dipped brown eyes
                              -that were once a sanctuary
                              for my soul-
                              can save me,
                              because i'm a drowned soul, now,
                              no one can dive after me
                              to save me
                              from this tumbling and turning
                              of my world ending,
                              and i guess you could say
                              i write to survive—
                              to write means to last another day,
                              but when  i do leave,
                              i'll leave
                              with more of a silence, a slipping away
                              than a bang,
                              sweet words on my tongue
                              that will taste like
                              memories
                              melodies
                              reveries,
                              or all three,
                              and i'll be
                              at peace
                              
                              i guess longer poems ARE growing on me. i'm going to eat some breakfast now. remember to eat something today, ily:))
                              love,
                              mari
                              
                              
                                      
                                          
                                   
                                              YOU ARE READING
poems for you. always for you. ✓
Poetrypoems for you. poems for the ex best friends and the lost 'forevers'. poems for the memories that burn and fade before burning again. poems for the emptiness that is heavy and hollow in hearts. poems for the fleeting, fiery moments of happiness that...
 
                                               
                                                  