Looking Through Old Photo Albums, Feels Like Reading The Life’s Story Of A Familiar Stranger.
Looking through old photo albums, feels like reading the life’s story of a familiar stranger.
Someone who once was my person of comfort— memories lost and disconnected in the back of my mind.
If she stood here before me I don’t know if tears would flood my eyes, if I would run for a hug, or if I would feel anything at all.
I don’t remember much about her character— I don’t remember her mannerisms, her fears, or really anything personal about her. All that I have left of her is her favorite flower and her favorite songs.
And I’m sure we would’ve been best friends, but I lost her too soon.
I miss my mom.
What is missed is the lifetime of growing old with her that was taken from me. And I will never have that back.
I will never have my mom.
More Posts from Ceramic-feelings and Others
:')
You don't notice
The everlasting sorrow
That's drowning out
The life in my eyes.
I'm weeping inside,
But you're only seeing
Soft flesh
Carrying a fabric
That lays loosely over my body.
I am but merely an item,
That had been claimed
The moment you rest your body
Against mine.
All my self worth plummeted
In a matter of seconds,
And I have never felt so ashamed.
~ceramic-feelings
a grain of sand on the beach
sifted by undulations,
where the ocean can reach—
sinking deeper in the tidal invasion.
Crush.
your heart a flower,
encapsulated by my
shielded garden walls.
~ceramic-feelings
the child is homeless
searching for life,
on land that is loamless
and cuts like a knife.
a boy with no friends
living skin and bone
has to make amends;
society’s steppingstone.
squirm the herm worm
with no little toes
and no little eyes, and no little nose
a small long body
a body that’s round
that rises occasionally
up out of the ground.
The tears trickle down my cheek
And slither down my neck,
Pooling in the crevice of my collarbone
Until they begin the overflow.
~ceramic-feelings
<3
You have a nice chest. You should show it off more in your photo posts here.
My chest?
You mean like this?
Flower Haikus
petals work as one
held together at the stem,
until they are picked.
.
.
Our love was a flower
he loved me, he loved me not
it was back and forth.
.
.
A single flower
In a feild of dead bushes
starts to shed petals.
.
.
Sharp petals like blades
Peirce through my ankles as I
Run through my garden.
.
.
- Ceramic-Feelings
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