Scratching at my feet

A dog scratches at my feet,

Looking for bits of me I’ve dropped.

I don’t have much to offer now,

Most of me I cropped.

It sniffs and cocks it’s head,

Wondering why this time I have less to give,

I take it softly in my hands,

Tell it “I’m sorry please forgive” 

I can usually feed the strays,

Usually have pieces of me to throw,

But this time all that’s left,

Is broken, old, and slow. 

“It’s not good enough for you”

I say and bow my head,

Because with only these measly offerings,

I’m sure time would deem me dead. 

Flying saucers

My mum used to love flying saucers,

And now I buy them for her when she visits.

I think it’s important she knows I remember,

That I couldn’t forget for a minute.

 

My mum used to love flying saucers,

So now I love them too.

Sometimes I sit and eat them without her,

Just to reminisce on the things we’d do.

 

I’m missing my mother more and more 

These days.

Even though I saw her on Sunday, 

I think I’m noticing how fast I age,

I miss her plating my hair on Mondays.

WHy do towels take so long to dry?

I’ve been staring at the same towel for days now.

Why do they take so long to dry?

I usually put them in the tumble dryer but,

This time I hung it up high.

 

I really like having my own towels,

I think it’s one of those things about moving out.

My towels are mine, and nobody else’s,

I don’t have to get out the shower and shout.

 

But why do they take so long to dry?

It’s taking up so much of my room,

And taking so much of my time as well,

As I stare at it moon after moon.

 

Sometimes I miss my home towels, 

even though they always seemed damp,

Because at least when I opened my eyes at night,

It wasn’t blocking the light of my lamp. 

It’ll pass

The waves are too rough,

And all the ships have crashed,

But when the light comes up tomorrow,

All of this will pass.

 

And when everything feels worthless,

And you can’t get out of bed.

When you stay up late obsessing,

Over everything you’ve said.

Or worse yet when there’s nothing,

But a hallow numb inside,

When you’ve grown tired of fighting,

The feelings that you hide.

 

When you don’t open your curtains,

You can’t even fill a glass,

Just please try to remember 

All of this will pass.

to love

Oh how wonderful it is to be loved,

And to feel love so strong your ribs might break.

We cringe at this word too often, shrug it off or colour it pink. But my housemates buy my favourite drink and put it in the fridge when I’ve had a bad shift. I send poems to a friend because sometimes he likes to write. I think of a different person I love when I see each colour of the rainbow.

To love is to know and to choose. To love is to hurt for others. To love is to tilt your screen, to turn your volume up so others can hear, or to turn it down so they can’t. And sometimes to love is to hold yourself close and whisper “it’s okay”. 

I love you, thank you.

5 minuites of time

2:20am, the silence is loud.

I can hear the static, 

I miss the crowd.

2:20am, and time has stopped,

You’d say I’m lying,

But I watched the clocks.

 

2:21, time hasn’t halted,

Things are just slow, barely faulted.

Yet things are off, the statics stopped,

And everything else, sounds all too soft.

 

2:22. I like this number,

Triple, a triangle, yet I’d rather slumber

2:22 and it’s all the same,

Yet here comes the clock ticking,

It’s kind of a shame.

 

2:24, I’ve missed a minute, 

Time seems to be faster, 

I’m drowning in it.

2:24 and I’m losing perspective,

Yet, as always, again this time stays reflective.

 

2:25, five minutes survived.

You’d think I’ve gone crazy,

Yet look I’m alive.

It’s 2:25 and the digits stop moving.

I’ve made it for now,

My time watchings improving.

How do i tell my friends i love them ?

I don’t know how to tell the people I love 

That I love them.

I think I expect it to seep through my skin, 

And be taken in on their every breath.

I don’t know what to do

To show I’m listening,

That I will stand as far back as they want

But I’m here.

And I’m so full of love that it bleeds through my love note paper cuts.

I used to wax seal letters,

To show I care enough to take care.

But I’ve long since lost the kit,

And it left burns I could not bear.

So now I write letters to an old friend,

But often forget them on my bedside. 

I should have sent them months ago ,

Instead I sit next to them red eyed.