Nine forty nine

by Vanesa   May 30, 2019


I find myself writing these poems,
Filled with words I could never say.
Filled with words you would never hear.
I find myself writing these poems,
Thinking that one day you’ll stumble across them and notice I’ve been writing about you all these years.
Thinking that maybe someone will understand just how empty I felt writing this and find comfort.
I find myself writing these poems,
In dark rooms with a loud AC melody.
In dark deep thought.
I find myself writing these poems
when I miss myself the most.

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Latest Comments

  • 4 years ago

    by Mr. Darcy

    Morning, Vanessa
    Is it the poets heart or head that writes? I feel that the two are linked, or at least when one is in dark room and in deep thought. Our hearts seem to reach out, hoping that words will become a cord that will make our visions real. A vision of what used to be.
    Take care.

  • 4 years ago

    by Mortal Utopia

    I really like this poem :)

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