trumanwripley

My eyes have felt aching with tears yet When I reach up to brush away the salt my eyes are Dry as bone My chest won't stop clenching and I just feel like I can't breathe even as I Fill my lungs with air The joints in my legs have been aching Like I have early onset arthritis and they work Just fine so why Is it that even though my body is full of Fully functioning organs and bones and muscles All coated with sun burnt skin That I feel like I am just as empty As my inbox

Birds took roost in a cozy hole Burrowed into the center of This tree, and yet they left Long ago, their home, An empty husk Jagged letters tattooed into The bark, people hoping for Remembrance, forever Scarring the wood Must I be a ghost with A loveless soul and Scars upon my skin, Marred by carelessness? Please, friend, take an ax And cut this poor tree down.

I will always be here for you Long after you are gone Because I cannot bear to leave My shoulders will be powdered With dust, a relic of the past Stored away in your attic My face will distort with time As your memory of me fades Like that of an old, distant relative I will sit patiently on your shelf, A book that you will never read Once again to relive the story Your brain will slowly phase Me out of existence, forgotten But I cannot bear to leave.

     A gentle light came through the windows lining the wall of the breakfast nook and sparkled across the china tea cups that rested, now empty, on the table. A blank form glared up at her, waiting to be filled out. She obliged.    “Are you sure that you want to sell this place, Diana?” A rotund, bespectacled man asked from across the table. He happened to be her closest neighbor, living a mile or so away, as well as a real estate agent.    “Yes,” she answered, “it really is time for me to go back home, you know? It’s been such a long time. Speaking of which, how are your kids doing, Tom?”    Tom

Do not toil away your days Fretting over the many different ways To earn that little boy’s gaze Because the eyes, my darling, Are not the path to the heart Do not fret over what he means By those little phrases, it seems That they have seeped into your dreams But his mouth, my darling, Is not always in tune with his brain He will love you the same As he “loves” any fair dame And he will do it without shame Because he, like you, is far too young To truly understand the meaning of love Admittedly I do not know it myself For that knowledge sits on the highest shelf Which we cannot reach until we know ourselves So flirt and f

You've got this problem I'm not sure if you know that You've got a faulty Superiority complex You don't treat others Like trash, no You don't think that You're the best, number one But you want to be: You think that kindness and Intelligence will put you Above the rest But you aren't, and It kills you because Every time you try You sink down lower All you want to do is be Noticed, and I can See it in your eyes, In your posture But you cannot be Part of the flock if You are neither a Sheep, nor a Shepherd.

In your absence, my Lungs will continue to function When you smile, my Heart will not jump at the Provocation of your pearly white teeth My cheeks will not turn an Intriguing shade of red just because Our hands might accidentally Connect for a fleeting moment I don't laugh when I'm with You because I want to be More to you than I currently am, But because you're funny When I do you a favor and don't Ask for anything in return, it's because I am trying to be nice My heels will stay firmly rooted to the ground, But that doesn't mean I don't like having you around.

No images of flowers Littered her walls, but Her phone was filled to The brim with them. It was not her only Hobby; to take pictures Of the things which She thought to be beautiful But wherever she was She would always have a Camera or phone to Capture whatever stifled beauty Might be growing on the Side of the road She had more pictures of flowers Than she did people Sometimes I stop to wonder If she is like a Roadside Flower Stifled by her siblings Even more so by her parents Struggling to grow and thrive But beautiful all the same Sometimes I wonder if roadside flowers Want to be seen as much as she does: To stand out amongst the ot