words used to spill from my every pore.
rolling off my hands in waves as they danced along to a story i told with a smile
and my eyes, they held page upon page
sometimes overflowing down my cheek.
skinned knees dribbled verbs down my leg
hair dripping people places things on my pillow.
every remark, every move, every look i ever gave
was drenched in sentences building a story
that i almost managed to capture
(like rain in a bucket)
on pages where i painted my heart in watercolor
but now
im not half-full
or even half-empty
im just hollow.
simply going through the motions
but it's hard to remember what the motions are when it feels like I've been pretending all my life.
i've got a head that feels empty
and barely anything to say
now
my pages are all too blank.
(does that mean my heart is too?)
YOU ARE READING
open letters to no one
Poetrypoems I can't keep to myself. things to get off my chest with verbs, nouns, adjectives. life lessons I have no one to share with. texts I really should send but don't have the courage to. things I can't say aloud. in essence, words I want to scream...
