I remain lost
Under the bluest of skies
Nobody, not one
Sees the hurt in my eyes
I am not free
To be who I choose
No matter what I do
I always seem to lose
I once thought
That love was real
But the longer I live
The less that I feel
And the truth is
I’ve never belonged
This is how It’s been
My whole life long
© 2019 Michelle Cook
Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/sky-cloud-plant-dandelion-blue-2969489/
When I think of you
I think of dances in the rain
Midnight walks and talks
Never a refrain
When I think of you
I think of autumn showers
Sitting at a little café
Talking for hours
When I think of you
I think of smiles under an umbrella
Holding your hand tight
So much I wanna tell ya
And when I think of you
I feel happier when it rains
The tie that binds us
Just cannot be explained
© 2019 Michelle Cook
Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/illustrations/walking-in-the-rain-landscape-beauty-1695803/
Words
I wrestle with them.
Some are just worth fighting for.
And even one good word can make life worth living — bringing hope to a day, which might otherwise be dark and dismal.
But a bad word can be so disheartening — often reminds me of a rosebud that wilts before it ever has the chance to bloom.
If only our words could always be like rainbows,
we’d never have to feel so gray.
© 2019 Michelle Cook
Alabaster
in purest form.
Frozen diamonds
like tears from heaven.
Shimmery flecks
woven by the breath of winter.
Delicate intricacies
formed with care.
Fashioned for wonder
by the hand of God.
A split second miracle
marveled by all.
© 2019 Michelle Cook
We often experience
A multitude of seasons
And nobody really knows
All of those reasons
But we carry on
Like we always do
Even when the answers
Are nearly none to few
And we never stop to question
What those seasons mean
Yet there must be hidden answers
In everything we’ve seen
Scattered between the pages
Of our monotonous lives
There have got to be reasons
For why we’ve somehow survived
And even if those answers
Are never actually found
We should all be happy
We’ve been allowed to stick around
So many people in this world
Never have that gifted chance
I guess it all depends
On our individual circumstance
© 2019 Michelle Cook
For a month of writing prompts, click here; Along the weathered, winding trail
Her Writing Haven 