The Bottom

I think I’m more likely

to have my troubles dissappear

by finding the bottom of a bridge

than at the bottom of the rainbow.

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Bottom of the Rainbow

They say at the bottom of the rainbow

there is a pot of gold

but I am at the bottom

and I promise you there is no gold here.

Just disappointment and broken dreams

which you can find anywhere really.

So why unstick yourself from the pillows

you’ve been crying into for three hours?

Save yourself from searching

for the happiness you hope is out there

at the bottom of some rainbow for you

because there is not.

It’s just much the same

so just protect yourself

from getting your hopes up.

There’s nothing out there

worth living for.

This Hope

I once had this hope

that maybe my poems

would speak all the words

that I knew I could not;

That the right choice of words

and the right amount of something

that I did not have would be enough

when I knew that I was not;

That maybe the emotions

that I’m constantly holding back

would be felt in my writing

that I knew I could not share.

but I know they are not.

I still have this hope

that maybe someday they will

if  I would only share those poems

with the rest of the world

and not keep them to myself…

yet I know I will not.

 

 

Sometimes…

Sometimes I wish the words for my poems

could flow as smoothly and as enchanting

as the ones in an Ed Sheeran love song.

Sometimes they do.

Sometimes I get caught in the moment

and find myself swept away in the magic

of the feelings I have and the words I type.

Sometimes I read what I write and think

“This is simply perfect.

I’ve captured a small glimpse perhaps

of what I originally intended,

but yet it’s exactly what I meant.”

Sometimes I take a step back and wonder

if the words are truly my own

because I don’t believe that my

lonely, loveless heart could have

produced words full of such awe.

Sometimes I get excited to share these

words crafted by my soul with the world,

but I always remember I can’t.

So while I may wish to enchant the world

with my own lyrics like Ed,

I’ll have to settle with saving

my soul to my file of drafts

full of other hopes waiting for their time

to shine like the light of a thousand stars…

 

 

Dangerous to Dream

It is dangerous to dream

bigger than the moment

you are already living.

It may be easy to dream

of long white curtains

billowing in a warm breeze

or a four-poster bed with

soft pink petals scattered

across bright, white sheets

that are as fresh and as pure as you;

maybe later you’ll be tangled in them

as you watch the sunset

over the ocean out your window

with the love of your life

shortly after you dedicated

your lives to be spent with each other.

Seems simple enough of a dream,

But that can be ripped from you

long before you ever get close

to touching that dream.

So dream simply of small things

like your first margarita

because the odds of someone

shoving that down your throat

against your will

is a lot less likely than other things…

take it from me.

The Left Behind

It’s much easier to do the leaving

than to be the left behind.

While you are all off to do

all new things

in all new places

with all new people,

I’m left with the same life

I’ve lived for many years before

except it’s different now

because you’re not here

to experience it with me.

Not a lot of exciting things happen to me

that you haven’t heard of lived before

but I get to hear all your exciting

stories from around the country

and realize how stuck I really am.

I’m glad my friends get to go on

such exciting adventures, I am.

But sometimes they don’t realize

that in the wake of their new experiences

I am left behind with no one

to do something as simple as

get a coffee with

because my closest best friend

is at now four hours away

and that makes life very lonely.

 

Trinkets

It makes my heart so sad

to hear all these girls talk

about what they want

(and will probably get)

for valentines day.

They want flowers

and cards

and chocolates

and candies

and teddy bears

and big gestures

and I am insanely jealous.

Not of the things they’ll get,

because stupid trinkets

from an aisle at Walmart

don’t interest me.

I envy their status;

their position;

the fact that they are

in a place where they can

have and set expectations

such as these meaningless items

because all I want

are three short words

but I will never hear them.

Instead, I’ll get three different words instead:

you’re not enough.

 

And I never will be.

Fairytales

I wish that fairytales were real

because that would mean that

dreams really do come true

just because you will them too

and patiently wait for them to happen

and everyone gets a happy ending,

even me.

But that’s just not the case.

Love is a sham

and the more you believe in it,

the more you’ll get hurt.

then again, if you don’t believe in love,

the world reveals it’s cold self,

and it’s miserable living there,

but so is living in a constant state

where you believe that any day now

you’re fairytale will come true

and your prince will finally love you.

Go ahead and pick you poison:

reality or an apple.