I plant flowers for people who enjoy wild fires
I look at the ones who always turn their backs to me
I collect stars for people who collect tears of unanswered love
I bleed and write poems with blood
holding them with shaky hands and teary eyes
staring at the one who never learned how to read
I thought I could try
like a bird leaving its nest
but I crashed along the way and out of shame and despair
I hide my wings
tuck them neatly behind me
and slowly rip out the feathers
giving them to the ones
who I think can teach me how to fly
but I never seem to know
that they never learned either
-g.b.
YOU ARE READING
Poems at Midnight
PoetryMy moods and thoughts take the shape of poems. Whenever I have coffee, walk down the street, listen to the rain or my favorite song , there is this undeniable voice in my head. It aches, it laughs, it cries and it told me to create. This is for the...
