my lines are barren of words
no one pays attention anymore
I walk away to try and heal
change those emotional bandages
stop the bloody hurt
when my lyrics are finally gone so will I
like a blank page…empty
death poetic is where these sonnets will live on
for stanzas from the grave bare the richest fruit
it’s then you see how poison being alive feels to a poet
when from lips when it can’t be
turning to the cover to remember from a photo
remember how abandoned I was with an audience
how forgotten I would become
unless I use creation to keep me alive
I’ll always be alone with my words
even if they are never again repeated
don’t repeat them for me
Earth To Ash 
It’s sad how we often appreciate the things people said and did only after they’re gone.
We must keep writing. They will realize it’s great stuff to read sooner or later.
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Thanks for this. As always, you read through my lines like you plucked thoughts from my head. And, yes it’s all great when it’s too late. Doing some new year processing with this one. Longer walks are my new thing. I get to think aloud and something like this poem happens. Creativity is on the upward swing. By the way, Happy New Year!! Hope it was a good start and I wish you nothing but golden dreams! Stay you 😉
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So far, so good.
Happy New Year!
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Reblogged this on Earth To Ash and commented:
#amwriting #WritingCommunity #poetry #poetrycommunity
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