PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

On my walks at sunset

I still hope

you’re the one who cares

what’s in my head.

Even when most of the seconds

I am wondering why

and my pillows have soaked in so many tears

they could probably

fill your sink when you finally get out of bed.

I tear out all these thoughts and toss them out the window

it feels like I am throwing you off the road

maybe

they’ll grow a garden.

Maybe I’ll get to make the colors into space

instead of space into color

like they usually

expect me to do.

When you have learned to let it go

I haven’t been told that way

I want to be the hand under your head

without being over you.

I am sick of caring about the wrong things

so if they wonder

why I don’t write anymore…

there are other

ways to heal.