-
Subscribe
Subscribed
Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
It’s December and there’s no snow on the ground
I stop and a light a cigarette
I hear a local bar play our song
It takes me back to when you were mine
Smiling at me with those bright green eyes
I wonder who you’re with tonight
And if she knows you the way I do
Does she know you’ve loved Fleetwood Mac since you were five?
Does she know you hate the color grey?
And does she know how much you once loved me?
I walk towards the bar while our song ends
It’s December and there’s no snow on the ground
Many are afraid of the dark
But I prefer to sit in it alone
My recovery has never been a straight line
I have relapsed time and time again
But I keep pushing forward
Doing what I can
Bad days come and go
Just like a storm
Then you look outside your window
And see the rainbow
You know you’re a writer when you can’t sleep
Until you jot down every last thought onto paper
Tonight I am in that dark place again
But this time I have no doubt
I will make it through
And the light once more
Will return in the morning
It took losing you to know how much you mean to me
And now it’s too late
Pour me a glass of brandy
And tell me the story behind your sad eyes
Sundays are made for coffee, a good book and laying in bed next to you
There was a time when I thought I could touch the moon and fly away on a shooting star
And there was a time when I held pink pills in my palm listening to death’s sweet whispers
Now I trade my “genius” for stability
The doctors tell me it is the price to live
Empathy Poetry 