What Had Once Filled Me With

over high garden walls, this sweet echo falls, as a soldier boy whispers goodbye.

Raymond B. Egan

My sweater unravels,

A thread locked around a knob.

As I walk away, my sweater becomes undone,

Back to the single-stringed rope it once was.

~ceramic-feelings

Painfully drifting

from people I called my best friends.

I reach out my arms

but they don’t see me.

My ship is sinking

and they float on

the way they always did,

just without me.

Reflection

The water from the reservoir

Is entirely stagnant.

As I hover the water,

The eyes of my reflection rendezvous.

In that moment I began to apprehend

That I truly looked demoralized.

The tears from my cheeks cascade,

And the still of the water is interrupted.

The soft undulations ripple away

Along with the depiction of my reflection

That had scarred the human psyche.

~ceramic-feelings

:')

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

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.

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

i hid in the shower

with the lights off

holding my hands to my ears

the sound of water becomes muffled

and the tears of the shower are one with my own.

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