a rude awakening

today we arose from our slumber, faster than the sun ever could.

Grief stood in the corner of my bedroom and wrote me a note.

tonight, he tucked the folded paper under my pillow



it was almost like he yelled for me to wake up, to rise and remember the things I’d much rather forget.

Many would consider him to be a wake up call,

some kind of romantic being that begged for the sight of my open eyes.


whom after awhile,

missed the laugh I had grown accustom to letting out,

and never forgot the different words I’d learn to trip over.

and maybe this was romantic

it was some kind of love story

I guess you could say.

A love story where he pleaded for my living

A love story where no matter how many times he tried to wake me up,

I’d shush him,

wish for his disappearance,

and still,

He would try again the next day.

a beating heart was enough for him though,

it was a message from me to him, saying thank you

not for the admiration

not for the begging

not for the constant remembrance of the people I miss

not for the loving

not for the letters under my pillow

but for catching me in a temporary sleep

that he didn’t want to last forever, and teaching me how to wake

when that is the last thing I had wished to do.


Weighted Clouds

with her sharp chin cradled in her hand,

she took a look the sky that hovered her since she was little.

The clouds were heavy, and so was her heart.

She loved storms and tonight it was as if

the sky had a lightswitch.

The raindrops danced down her window

and as distracting as they were,

nothing could dim the lightning.

she was a sucker for the lightning.

It was hard to look away, she couldn’t keep her eyes off of it,

in fact there was something about the way the lightning struck the sky

like the veins inside of her heart.

Her mind wandered off.

She looks at the sky and slowly comes to the conclusion that

when we don’t cry for ourselves, when we don’t cry for our world, our world cries for us.

She remembers her first heartbreak like it was yesterday.

He made her feel like every vein in her heart was getting ready to violently burst,

each and every one of them .

On days when she would try to fall asleep,

she lie alone and saddened by close to everything, she would watch the rain.

that just had to be why she loved the raindrops that fell from the clouds above her. It was like he was the rain

that was his way of paying her a visit.

For a moment she recognized the pain the world was feeling for the people around her. Perhaps the world was crying for her,

with her, when nobody, not even her could fix her heart and mind.

She was the kind of person who took her problems and shoved them under the bed.

That is where they would remain.

she didn’t know if it’d be better for someone to find them or to

leave them alone.