A Lone Soul

A cold hand touches the soul
Draining warmth, comfort
And connectivity.
 
An absence of sound, laughter
Words fail, claimed
By empty air.
 
Phone buzzes on the table
Is it a friend, family?
No, a game alert.
 
Flipping through channels
Searching social media
For something.
 
A need to reach out to another
Yet unaware of its urgency
Until they walk in.
 
They fill the void
And like a moth to flame
Rush to them.
 
Or maybe the door
Never opens, always closed
And we hide
 
Behind curtained windows.

Absent

Not going to lie, I feel absent from my own life, if that makes any sense. I wake up, go about the day, and yet it feels void of meaning. Hoping tomorrow, this feeling is somehow banished from existence.

In the meantime, I’m helping my mom engrave wine glasses as a bridal shower gift for my future sister-in-law.

[Current energy= restlessness X anxiety X defeated mentality]

Here’s hoping tomorrow is actually a new day where I have motivated energy to do what needs doing.

To This Writer

Why I keep writing

 

It gives purpose.

It builds a home.

It joins lives.

It allows for calm, peace.

 

It fills a void.

It answers a call.

It sparks life.

It sedates anger, fear.

 

It adds to the light.

It takes from the dark.

It mediates experiences.

It awakens love, hope.

 

It is medicine.

It comforts the breaking.

It builds the broken.

It breaths help, justice.

 

It takes time.

It ages and dies.

It is born again and again.

It thinks on life, death.