mental health · poem · poetry · recovery

daddy issues

I don’t know if I forgive you.

And maybe I don’t want to know.

Maybe our history sits like smoke

That won’t leave my lungs.

I don’t know how I want to die.

But man, smoke inhalation’s not really my jam.

And maybe the tendrils of your apology

Are filled with poison that rip my tears apart.

I don’t know if I want you in my life.

And maybe that’s where I need to be.

Or maybe this is another way you control me,

By offering something so worthless.

And maybe forcing my hand is another act

Of violence done with a smirk on your face.

love · mental health · poem · poetry · prose · recovery

Homecoming

I was homesick.

But not for our home. Not for the couch or the bed or the mess of living that is unique to it.

I was homesick for you.

For the glimmer of your eyes on a laugh. The confident way you touch me. The stability of your presence.

I was homesick for you.

For the casual way you tear down my walls. The way you challenge me to be better. The easy way you love me. The way you make it seem easy to love me.

I was homesick for you.

How happy I am to be home again.

daily prompt · love · mental health · poem · poetry · recovery · travel

see ya depression

Well this is awkward…
You caught me with my mask off.
Sun-kissed wind caress,
face exploding in a soft
laugh, forgetting the mess
of daily life.

Well this is awkward…
I forgot to care about you this morning.
Blinded by free happiness
and forgot I’m in mourning,
but I just don’t miss
you.

I think I’d rather love myself instead.

{via daily prompt}

love · mental health · poem · poetry · recovery · travel

here

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There are parts of my heart
scattered in each place I’ve been.
You see, travel does this funny thing.
It reminds you of the complexities in this world.
Cobbled streets lead to collosal castles
streets sprinkled in sorrow,
history and happiness too.
There’s nothing I would rather do.

Human connection is the aspect of adventure
that lives in the heart of each traveller.
The appreciation of beauty that notices
this door is closed but damn, it’s beautiful.
What lesson can be learned here?
That the little joys of life appear
in the middle of something unexpected?
I love that.

Travel is something I hold dear,
And you will always find a piece of my heart here.

daily prompt · love · mental health · poem · poetry · recovery · travel

warning bells

i am trying to explain flashbacks to you without sounding ludicrous.
it doesn’t matter this was years ago.
it doesn’t matter that it could have been worse.
the terror lies partly in those coulds,
the insidious possibilities that stole my safety from me.

i don’t know how to explain that i know it’s not helpful.
my panic. my overabundance of caution.
the gnawing reminder that the security of home is merely
an illusion.

i am trying to imagine your response when i tell you
i hold these flashbacks in one hand and positivity in another.
these new traits that cracked my soul and let empathy out.
these memories that finetuned the strings of my street-smarts.

the warning bells might never go away.
and i’m trying to envision how you might
love that part of me too.

{via daily prompt}