empty

Solitary sufferings

~ ~M ~ 16 Comments

I’m in that place again
a solitary prison of self-pity
dissolving in a room without windows
punishing the portrait of myself

Why do I repeatedly come here
to a place of unnecessary suffering
blotting out every light source
to the detriment of my soul

I’m like a vacant-eyed visitor
destined for undeniable destruction
welcoming a withering existence
as the world shuffles on

I could choose to chase the sunshine
become a ball of light myself
but what’s the fun in sunbeams
who always disappear into the dark

© 2024 Michelle Cook

Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/street-lamp-night-solitary-824349/

He’s like the wind…

~ ~M ~ 17 Comments

hand-3938729_1280

There
Then gone
Back again
Then gone again
The cycle never ends
I can’t catch him
Keep him
Make him stay
He’s like the wind
Through outstretched arms
I come back empty
Every time

© 2020 Michelle Cook

Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/hand-back-of-the-hand-finger-rings-3938729/

 

Apathetic

~ ~M ~ 15 Comments

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I am living,
but I’m not living.
Been lost in a tailspin
of leftovers,
and today
I crashed.
Jumbled pieces of me
lie strewn about.
I don’t know which
to pick up first,
so I do nothing
as usual.

© 2019 Michelle Cook

Heightened senses

~ ~M ~ 11 Comments

night-3494221_1280

There’s a chill in the air
A sure sign of change
The same shivery feeling
Found in breezes of the past

And while déjà vu goosebumps
Leave me to ponder present time
The atmosphere is unsympathetic
As I wrestle with these thoughts

© 2019 Michelle Cook

For a month of writing prompts, click here;  Heightened senses

 

Acceptance

~ ~M ~ 11 Comments

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I found myself depleted
Of every last drop
Not even an ounce of myself
Was left in the cup

I’d been spilled nonchalantly
Chipped on occasion
And I’d invited my curiosity
To allow an invasion

I worked tirelessly everyday
To refill my cup
But the pieces gave way
And I had to give up

Even the glue that lingered
Wasn’t that strong
So mending the edges
Went unbelievably wrong

The stains and scars
Still very much remain
And the cracks are reminders
Of so much pain

Thankfully a vessel
Doesn’t have to look nice
So this battered old cup
Will just have to suffice

© 2019 Michelle Cook