Sunday morning

It's a Sunday
The last of the month
The sun only rose
An hour ago
For now
Everyone else is asleep
Except
The birds outside

I love these moments of quiet
When it's just me
And a cool morning
They can fill me with a strange energy
Make me hope
And dream
I have faith, during these moments,
That life will work out

But it gets so quiet sometimes
That my mind gets too loud
Then I can't hope or dream
I can't focus or think
I can't feel that quiet content that comes with such
Sunday mornings
All I can do is to
Let the sadness in
Let it embrace me
Be one with it

Roses

He drew on me
On my skin
He drew roses
All over me
He said they made me
Look beautiful
He drew on me
On my skin
Roses
So many of them
He drew on me
On my skin
With a blade

Familiar

Ah this sadness

So familiar

Settling down

In my bones

Blood and flesh

When I least expect it to

Like a suit of armour

But

Instead of protecting

Merely weighs me down

Blocks out

Sunlight

Fresh air

This sadness

It's never gone for good

Desperate

Why do we talk about desperation
Like it's such a bad thing

Like it's sad to be desperate for some love
To yearn for someone whose hand you can hold
Someone to love
Be loved by
Why is it so pathetic
For someone to be so in need of
Some love?

Why is love okay as long as you aren't looking for it
But have already found it
With your public displays of affection
Timelines full of your posts
Images and text
Reminding me of
The love you have found
But the love I can't look for
Because it'll make me seem
So fucking desperate
And sad

Why do we shame people
For wanting this one little thing in life
Hoping for a future
As short as it may be
With someone
They are told they can't have
Who is way out of their league

Why do we laugh at people
Who just want to be with someone
To share a bottle of wine with
Get a little tipsy, count stars with
A warm body next to theirs
When they wake up in the morning

Why is it so bad
Pathetic, so sad
To be desperate for a love
They've never known
Or once had but lost?