Scribbled Thoughts

A gift waiting

underneath a tree,

lying uncomfortable

for romance

but unable to rise

because the hard cold floor

has ruined their back.

Wet my mask

from the inside

with salt

and loneliness

and plans of actions

that you can only

bear thinking of

alone.

Bleed out a potential,

a strand of destiny

never followed,

never known,

never lived.

Surrounded by familiar comfort

to celebrate

other people’s joy

and mean it,

you’ve always meant it,

even when yours

feels far away.

Life shouldn’t be

resentment.

Rush but be better,

work through exhaustion

to bring others satisfaction

while you pop painkillers

and energy drinks,

hoping to survive

the next three days.

River of denial

once again.

All the positives

you conjured

try to stand tall.

Even wobbling

and tilted

it is progress.

One week more

to try recapture

that feeling of joy

and excitement

you can sense

trying to seep

to the surface.

Are you ready?

Demons in my dreams,

breathe your influence away

or burn it all down.

Choice of regret

sits heavy

and stirs sickness

in body and spirit,

all because the memory

was a lie

of wanting.

A day to face

what you’ve been dreading,

hoping for a good result

so you can see

what happens next.

Either way

life will become

a little more clear.