This piece reflects me coming back to writing and sorting through some heavier emotions. It’s about starting over, facing what’s changed, and letting the darker parts show.

This is my poem I call it "Bittersweet echos love" because it says bittersweet a lot and is talking about a love that's long gone I made it in class because I had free time sorry if it's long because it's about a two minute read if you like it tell me I have another one it's called "the Rose"

I carried your buckets because I knew the weight of water, the cruel infinity of oceans. But I never learned to build a dam.

I miss being ignorant I wish I never opened my eyes and saw how much pain I’ve endured I thought that everything was fine and that the flowers weren’t blooming simply because it wasn’t their time I realize now that there was no sun for them to grow

I haven’t published anything here in a while as I was working feverishly on my novel (and posting more to my Substack), but I have been feeling the creative itch so I decided to add another poem to my journal.

This is a poem that's been bouncing around for a while. Although I haven't written much in a very long time it's been even longer since I've written a poem. Here's to everyone having a hard time! (* I do not guarantee it to be good and/or match any kind of structure) *Insert Great Gatsby meme here*

This poem is about the way white men use the word "nigga" or "nigger" like it's just a fancy word to say. Like it's not hurting anyone. Idk how to put it like a poem so yea. (Not being rasict but going back into history with this word).

I have to write. I must write. It feels like I'm sinking sometimes. Into the abyss. I put it to paper so my mind can rest.

Sometimes grief, it feels like an incurable sickness, a plague. I never have wanted to share my thoughts or feelings about it all with anyone because I feel like I'm just going to infect them with this plague, my sorrow, I carry.

Do you think it’s pretty when it rains? Do you ever just stop and watch it rain? Surely you do. Surely you like it.

My house, it choose me. It keeps me though it's left me lost and widowed, lonely waiting for him forevermore.

This poem describes the looming grief that haunts me after my husband's suicide. It describes the fear I felt and feel from finding him and the inky black entity that entered his eye.

{I want no less / I need no more / He's everything / He's my friend Mo} a poem about experiencing schizophrenic delusions.

Why are they not a thing when it might be somewhere in a place thats really really fucked up for real though ewww

{Look! / Open your eyes! / Can't you see? / Can't you see? / It's here, it's really here! / I just got a memory!} a poem about short-term memory loss of a long-term memory.

Real pain covered by special interests providing comfort. This is in reference to my mental health. Having a special interest in movies as well as often experiencing disassociation so using film as a way to ground. I also threw in something that I experienced recently as a prompt. I was in a situation that was feeling increasingly confusing and unsafe and I had suggested SLC punk, one of my favorite films, but was worried this experience would tarnish the movie.

A short expression of how it feels being one without a home/in a shelter in the current state of the world. The constant cycles that are never fulfilling and having to be on guard, the repetition and draining feeling it holds. This is specifically in reference to my own and the local community's experience, The tiring walks and lack of trust.

What if there is life out there beyond Earth? And what if they're watching us like some science project? Maybe we're just some sort of experimental planet.

Looking at you a leopard is clawing at you. It is thirsty with prideful eyes as it looks at you with thirsty and prideful eyes, as it hangs on a picturesque portrait of a frame.

Burying someone doesn't tether their ghosts to their grave. That's why haunted houses exist after all.