Nights lost among bright stars
and empty bottles of alcohol.
The feeling in my soul is that
of a lost pup blinded by a snowstorm.
I cannot feel, I cannot see.
I wish for it to vanish
like a puff of smoke,
the gray form morphing into monsters.
She always told me to look up at the stars
because then the world will always fade away
from view.
The vastness of everything felt like
the ocean swallowing the world whole.
I want to go home, go home.
It’s become a burden being here.
Mother should have dinner ready
where the water meets warm sand.
I love the smell of happiness
in the early morning when the birds
call my name.
It’s beautiful, so beautiful.
The peaceful gleam of the sun
dancing on my skin
is enough for me to smile.
Love, love.
About the Creator
Becca Mahar
Poetry is my passion. I tend to spill my heart out in my writing, so if you enjoy compelling emotional poems, my page is for you. I'm a neverending abyss of emotions.
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The Light Turns
It's Tuesday 7:13 a.m. A cold and clear November morning awaits Ray on his morning commute. Ray rubs his hands together in the front seat of his Subaru. He turns the air temperature up, but keeps the air on low until the air warms up. He looks at the backup camera screen and reverses the Subaru out of his driveway onto Trimble Road.
By John R. Godwina day ago in Fiction
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