Activity
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michae1 shared a letter in the
Poetry group 5 months, 3 weeks agoLeap Year
Michael L George jrAnother physical year
About to pass on.
This leap year
Flew by,
Seemed
Like. A Hop, Skip & a jump,
I guess some of us needed
That extra day.
See you next February 29th. -
Matthew Jablonsky shared a letter in the
Poetry group 5 months, 3 weeks agoChristmas Come-Down
Matthew L JablonskyThe tree is still lit,
the walls are adorned.
We celebrated the day,
our savior was born.The gifts are all opened,
The presents are done.
The family dinner,
is now left-overs for one.Everyone got home,
safe and sound.
There’s still a few shreds,
of wrapping on the ground.The house is so still,
everything is quiet.
I can hear my heart break,
amid all the silence.I already miss it,
having my family all there.
The sound of their laughter,
filling the air.But life must go on,
the world keeps on spinnin’!
I wish it would stop,
or slow down for a minute.Going back to work,
feels somewhat surreal.
Coworkers are great,
but family is real.One thing I’ve learned,
as I’ve gotten older;
The worst part of Christmas,
Is when it is over.-
Thank you Matthew for this wonderful heartwarming poem. It is sad when the holidays are over and we return to our normal lives until the next holiday. It is heart filling hearing family laughter and watching everyone enjoy their meals and gifts.
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As always, I love your poetry. And I love the sentiment in this piece. I featured it in our newsletter today. <3 Lauren
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Noirerequiem shared a letter in the
Poetry group 5 months, 3 weeks agoA World Rewoven
AmbitiousBMarieI will stitch a world from my verses,
Sewing these words of confidence into your hair like flower crowns of daisies.
To join these joints into sockets that would complete rivers.This isn’t the story of Pangea.
It’s the tale of a seam unbroken,
Where each chain stitch holds together pieces of pain and hope.A prick of sorrow, a stab of truth,
Threads unraveling, yet I sew them anew.Binding scars into patterns, weaving triumphs through the cracks,
Every loop and knot a map of survival—
A tapestry of me, of you, of us.-
Such a powerful picture and poem. I admire the amount of imagery there is in your writing, the way you tie the connection of the human body or society to nature. I feel as much as we neglect Mother Nature we dont seem to understand how our bodies is connected to nature.
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Thank You so much for your support. I hope to get people to understand and cherish nature through my work.
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michae1 shared a letter in the
Poetry group 5 months, 3 weeks agoThanks
Michael L George jrFinally getting to a point
Of not giving too much
Attention to these fucked
Up situations. Everything happens
For a reason and I’m thankful
For my new found love!
No, it’s not a person.
It’s my art formation. Helps
Me alleviate some of the anger
Or sadness also helps me
Express when I’m ecstatic.
These fucked up situations
Only leads to new content.
So I guess instead of getting mad
About it I’ll start to give thanks.
So thanks to every situation that
Lead me to writing. -
michae1 shared a letter in the
Poetry group 5 months, 3 weeks agoLOVE
Michael L George jrLove comes in many
Forms it doesn’t
Have to be sexual.
The concept of love
Is different for each and
Everyone of us.
Some love to touch
While others love to talk
Hear the reassuring sound
Of certain and specific sounds.
From the words that come out.
Love is expensive and expressive.
It’s addictive but don’t get it twisted,
The words “I LOVE YOU” don’t mean shit.
If it’s not coming from the right person.
Love is a feeling that is revealing through
The ears, the eyes, can be touched from
Vibrations of the frequency of the voice.
Once you hear that certain noise,
Ears perk up like a dog, now you’re filled
With joy. Even the scent can bring some
Love as your brain ignites and triggers
A wonderful feeling from inside.
Love struck like lightning from deep
Inside my mind, I had to express Myself.
I’ve felt love from plenty.
I’ve showed love also experienced
& expressed it gradually.
Without loving myself how
Could I show it,
Love is diverse
& driven from Emotions.-
I totally resonate with this poem, as I struggle with love myself. Whether it is loving the wrong people and not loving myself enough. I cringe at the word love but I am overcoming that fear slowly but surely. Thank you for shining your light in sharing your truth and expressing your feelings.
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Love is what we give shouldn’t be what we search for. Once it finds us
In the form of our perception
Hard to accept it as a blessing.
But this is just another opinion.
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Lauren Brill shared a letter in the
Poetry group 5 months, 3 weeks agoForgotten
NasheshiaForgotten in the hidden emotions I feel,
Behind the weed and underneath the alcohol,SEEN too much,
HEARD too much,
KNOW TOO MUCH
Forgot to SPEAK UP
Because I didn’t know any better
And because you said I didn’t need any help,So I’m just another “mad black woman” who can do bad all by myself because you said
black people don’t need therapy
I listened
I believed you but I forgot to believe me
I was lost because I forgot I was innocent -
michae1 shared a letter in the
Poetry group 5 months, 3 weeks agoStimulated in this Simulation
Michael L George jrOnce you’ve been “Awaken”
You’ll realize everything
Is just a simulation of your
Very own imagination,
Shaping your reality.
We’re all here and have different
Perceptions, if you hear em
And see em moving to
The words you think.
Or the words you read,
Maybe if you’re artistic
You see em play out the
Words you write.
So now it is what it is
Some go with the statement
Of “living in the matrix”,
Some Rationalized it
With quantum physics.
While others have a different
Representation or a different
Calculation, coming to another conclusion
Of how it started.
A conscious conscience,
Some are just a Con in science.
Is this a coincidence? Is it a theory?
Is it a fantasy?
The power of the mind
Is incredible, imagine
A thought coming to life
Images reciprocating through
The eyes. Now it’s more than a vision.
Those thoughts are being played
In the present through actions.
The Time it takes for the mind
To retrieve this information is astounding.-
This was such a powerful poem. I enjoyed the metaphors that you used. “ A conscious conscience, Some are just a Con in science.” Is my favor because there are cons amongst this world and inside the scientific views. Sometimes I get OVERstimulated with life and the simulations of this world.
Thank you for sharing your wisdom.-
You’re welcome, I glad you enjoyed this piece. Was hesitant
On sharing for a few seconds.
But I’ve realized I’m not the only
One feeling like this. Lots of artists seem to use the statement
Of “living in the matrix”
Reminded me of my
Artistic freedom. We all have
It just express it different.
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Oswald Perez shared a letter in the
Poetry group 5 months, 4 weeks agoMerry Christmas!
Oswald PerezDear Unsealers,
It’s Christmas Eve!
December has gone by so fast. It felt like it was five minutes since I was celebrating my birthday at the very start of the month.
Now, we’ve reached the conclusion of Advent and head into the twelve days of Christmas.
I hope that wherever you’re celebrating the holiday, it’s done in the company of people that you love. With an extra moments of arms held aloft for those that find this time of year difficult to celebrate.
For those of you that celebrate this day, I wish all of you a very Merry Christmas!
The following is my Christmas message for this year:
Time went by so fast, didn’t it?
December came in and went like a jingled blurAfter twenty four days wait
A celebration of the savior’s birthAs the bells ring out, people gather
Friends, family and loved onesFor it’s Christmas Day at last
With love and kindness towards allWherever you are in the world
I wish for you all the peace todaySaid many times in many ways
From me to you, from NYC to the world…Merry Christmas!
¡Feliz Navidad!Joyeux Noël!
Frohe Weihnachten!Nollaig Shona!
Feliz Natal!Buon Natale!
Καλά ΧριστούγενναSretan Božić!
Bon Nadal!-
Lovely expression of love and the reason for the season 🌹
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Thank you for this warm Christmas poem. Sharing light onto those who are having a tough holiday season! I really enjoyed reading this. It took me back to when I was younger and enjoyed the Christmas holiday spirit.
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Cheyenne Jamerson shared a letter in the
Remembering those we lost/Grief group 5 months, 4 weeks agoHighschool skies and sea green eyes
Freshman Year.
My freshman year of high school was breezy and easy, like the Washington skies. I was just growing out of the ridiculous haircut I had gotten in 8th grade, and nobody cared about all the drama that happened in middle school, anyway. I had a fresh start, and I intended to use it in this big new high school.
I found my new best friend in drama class, which we both failed. She was warm and friendly like the summer, which was her name. We became inseparable, and I haven’t found a friend like her since.
The majority of my freshman year revolved around one thing. He was tall and had green eyes. I’ll never forget the first time we held hands, also in drama class. We were watching 12 Summer Nights, by Shakespeare. I was playing with the ring on his finger that spun around in its metal case, and then I wasn’t. We were holding hands, and we did for the rest of the movie. At the end, the lights came on, and I didn’t know what to say. We just looked at each other.
Hello, Green Eyes. I thought, and he raced off.
Our first kiss was outside of his house. Although I didn’t have the best of eyesight, I could see his mom’s disapproving gaze from the living room window. But it happened anyway, and he ran off, just like before.
See, he was dying of cancer. But one moment with him felt like forever, and that’s how I thought it would last.
There were a lot of firsts with him. He was my first actual boyfriend, and my first real life lesson. He was also my first, and I was his first. We both skipped drama (the first class we ever skipped) to go to his house, and when we got back, everyone knew what we had done, and we pretended to be embarrassed. But we weren’t.
It was also the first time I remember being truly happy, inside and out, or at least the first time since I had been a child. And we both sat in the class as the others teased us with grins on our faces, and when I looked at him, I was speechless.
Hello, Green Eyes.
Sophomore Year.
Sophomore year started out like my freshman year of high school, but ended very stormy, like the Colorado skies. My mom told me she “missed the mountains,” so it was goodbye Washington, and hello Colorado. Goodbye popularity, goodbye best friend, goodbye warm weather and happy feelings.
Goodbye, Green Eyes.
I never really said goodbye to Green Eyes, not even online. I didn’t want to face the fact that it would hurt more to say goodbye than to pretend I had never left. Of course he found me and we talked, but I never told him out loud all that he meant to me.
Growing up, everyone always told me to have no regrets. They never told me what to do when they started piling up. Nobody explained how to cope with guilt or how to get rid of the regrets. Not saying goodbye to that boy and telling him something, anything, still weighs on me today.
My family and I drove down to Colorado on a three-day trip on a crowded GreyHound bus, to a small trailer park on the very edge of a small town. My mom, her boyfriend, and my brother and sister, and I moved into a three-bedroom trailer with my mom’s friend and her son and daughter. You can imagine it was crowded.
A few months after I started school, now poor and an outcast, I thought it couldn’t get any worse. Then I got a few messages from my friends back home telling me that he was dead. He died in his sleep. The cancer had won. At first I felt numb. All I could do was stare in the mirror, and think, goodbye, for real.
Goodbye, green eyes.
Junior Year.
Junior year was a blur. The storm clouds in the sky paralleled the ever-present storm clouds in my mind. I didn’t go to class much. When I did, I was (please excuse my language) a frigid bitch to those around me. I had a few friends, but none of them went to the high school. I started to lash out at my mom and burn the bridges around me.
I wouldn’t admit it, but all I wanted was my green eyes back. So there were plenty of blue eyes, and brown eyes, and blurry faces and one-night stands, and a lot of parties. I went to school less and less and started doing other things more and more.
I snuck out all the time and ran away twice. I got into a fight with my mom’s boyfriend and he ended up in jail. That night, my mom told me I had to find somewhere else to stay.
And I did, quickly. But my struggles were only beginning as I would have to learn how to balance school on top of my Couchsurfing lifestyle.
As I walked through the cold one morning on my way to school, I caught my gaze in the reflection of a car window, and I stared glumly at my tired face.
I miss you, green eyes.
Senior Year.
Senior year was a silver lining on the horizon, like the morning I woke up after I had spent the night underneath the town bridge and gazed at the Colorado mountains with a new sense of determination. I was never going to have to do that again. I knew I deserved better, and I was the only person who was going to do something about it.
I switched schools to an alternative school called Horizons, and the principal of my old school agreed to reinstate my credits from Junior year as long as I passed all my classes in this new school.
Although I still struggled with homelessness, drugs and alcohol, I found that life was easier in this new school. I was passing all my classes, and my future seemed hopeful.
When I watched my sister graduate college from Fort Lewis, I had never felt so proud of anyone in my entire life. I wanted to feel that pride for myself, too.
My sister showed me her college diploma, and I showed her mine from high school. She hugged me. I looked at her straight in her eyes, which were normally a dark rich chocolate-brown. But at that moment, the sun shining through the clouds bounced off the vibrant sea of leaves to reflect that familiar sea-green hue I had not seen in a long time.
“I’m so proud of you,” she said, and smiled.
“I’m proud of you, too,” I mumbled back, and smiled even bigger.
I love you, Green Eyes. Thanks for everything.
High school is a time of learning who you are, what you want to do, what you’re gonna be, and where you’re gonna go. One of the most important lessons I learned in those four years was that life can change in an instant. Life is resilient but can be fragile. Everyone always told me to have no regrets, but never told me what to do when you do find yourself carrying them around, like the heavy books in your school bag. What you can do is this: let your regrets change you. Let them teach you. Let them challenge you. Sometimes the only way to make things right is to do things differently, because you can’t change the past. Because time rolls by like the puffy clouds in the sky, and change is inevitable. So live a life that you are happy living, cherish and value people. Because eventually we all close our eyes. And man, I miss those green eyes.
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michae1 shared a letter in the
Poetry group 5 months, 4 weeks agoEMOTIONS
Michael L George jrEnergy from a feeling
Moving through the body.
Otherwise known as emotions.
The mind connects these Feelings,
Internally we think.
Ongoing about certain places or things.
Numerous times we feel with our minds
Sad, happy, mad, exited or frightened.-
“energy from a feeling, moving through the body…”
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You hit this poem right on the nose of emotions. I’m really huge on emotions and I wish society would regulate emotions more so we can feel comfortable expressing them to others!
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Titus Armon shared a letter in the
Poetry group 5 months, 4 weeks agoUntitled
Titus ArmonYou show up without warning
Sparking my interest
I wouldn’t do this normally
But I choose to accept
I follow the narrow
Reluctantly I’m dressed
Checking over your shoulder
Stepping in walls of Magnolia
I proceed to regress
Caught speechless
Long by deviant
Leading me out further
Moments I feel descent
Going without reason
I sense meaning
Yielding for composure
I watch myself be
For seconds I am
Unto never again -
michae1 shared a letter in the
Poetry group 5 months, 4 weeks agoSpiritual Healing
Michael L George jrTired, it’s a day of days.
My body wants love, my
Mind needs rest,
And my spirit could
Use some uplifting.
When my mind
Goes to rest,
I hope it’s your body
I see in my dreams
& receive some love for
Spirtual healing. -
michae1 shared a letter in the
Poetry group 5 months, 4 weeks agoWinter Breeze
Michael L George jrChillin like the
Winter breeze.
Watching the tiniest
Bit of me leave,
With the air I breathe.
Watching snowflakes fall.
Along with the steam rising
From a cup of hot co coa
Twirling it around in circles.
A breathtaking moment
Of the cold days in December.
Can you picture this
Written image? -
Noirerequiem shared a letter in the
Poetry group 6 months agoBorn of Stardust
AmbitiousBMarieDuring the Big Bang, I was born,
Stardust from the cosmos, fallen to earth.
Evicted from the sky—a shooting star,
No place to call home.When I reach for the heavens,
I’m still trying to return.I stood at the ocean’s edge,
Longing for the ripples to embrace me.
Crabs taught me their secret—
To float away on the tide.
I prayed for my find,
But no Ursula came to grant my wish.When I reach for the giant blue mass,
I’m still trying to return.Through forests alive with kaleidoscope hues—
Orange, red, and yellow flush my path.
Strong thoughts flood my mind,
A deep yearning to live amongst the leaves.In the trees, the birds perch on old branches,
Their wings whisper freedom—
A freedom I long to hold.When I reach for the tall oak,
I’m still trying to return.I’m still trying.
I’m still trying.
I’m still trying.Still trying to shed this human existence,
To finally be one—
One with the world around me.-
Wow such strong imagery! With me being an air sign I felt this deeply in my soul and visualized every parts of this poem! “Evicted from the sky-a shooting star, no place to call home” I feel like that’s why that famous quote comes to play “reach for the stars” cause we are our own stars. Thank you for this empowering remembrance!
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Penny Powell shared a letter in the
Poetry group 6 months agoC-O-U-R-A-G-E
Penny A. PowellAlthough I didn’t participate in the recent Open Mic Night with the “Courage” theme, I was inspired to write this brief, lighthearted poem.
C in Courage is for committing
O represents Omitting whatever’s preventing you from committing
U – Understanding your role
R – Realizing the goal
A – Aligning with the purpose of what you need to be courageous about
G – Going for it with gratitude and without second-guessing and doubt
E – Energized, electrified, elevated to move…
Out of fear mode and into your courageous groove.The mission can be smooth
When whatever is blocking your courage is removed…Courage can be contagious
No, it’s not outrageous
I hope and pray you’ll be courageous and free
To do whatever it is you were sent here to see and be!-
Aww I love this Penny. Simple but powerful! I am going to feature this piece in our newsletter today. Happy Holidays. <3 Lauren
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Happy New Year, Lauren! Hope your 2025 is off to a great start! Big apologies for my DELAYED reply, but please know that I greatly appreciate your kind words. Thank you so much for reading, commenting, and featuring the poem. That was sweet of you!:-) Have a wonderful week! Hugs & Blessings, Penny
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jenpinc shared a letter in the
Poetry group 6 months agoConnecting Grace
Jennifer PincusI avoid the light on brighter days. Should have known better than to look directly at my Grace. Now we speak of sons and who will be the last ones standing. I am not demanding but will seek out the answers. Debilitated by the bastards who’ve shown their face but never skin. Walked within the mental temple I begin but apparitions are the outlines of our sins.
I strolled with her in the sunrise
she sang to me in lullabies
I waited for her endless times
but I was never told.We watched the clouds unfold how dare she be so bold hear my prayers, wipe my tears, watch me grow old. For years I waited on that block connecting time and youth as one. I circled like my childless mom waiting for my turn around the sun. It bled me dry from all I cry waiting for her to rise from the deadness inside as she collapses instead at the foot of the bed and we pray to what we cannot see the evidence will never be in the shade of yesterday I see what I’ve been circling and the beauty we are birthing
only to hand it over in the end.
I will not bend
I cannot go
I will not send him there.My Grace you have outgrown me I wish you would have known me longer than our summertimes. I rise everyday like the Fourth of July hoping you will be a firefly a firework up in the sky or something that can never hide from me again. I live with your ghost I collapse as a host of your fragile soul I want to feel you near me but you fear me I fear my dear it’s now the end.
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This poem is such an empowering read. I feel at times grace can be scary because we don’t give ourselves enough credit for the things we have accomplished or we are beating ourselves up for feeling like we aren’t doing enough. But I always tell myself patience is the virtue and we can accomplish anything we set our minds to and show grace for the…read more
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Carrie Johnson shared a letter in the
Poetry group 6 months agoThis post is viewable by the Unsealed community only.
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Benjamin Fuller shared a letter in the
Poetry group 6 months agoThree Brothers
Donald M. ClydeNarrator: Let me tell you a fable of three brothers, sitting and having a feast around a table:
Brother 1: Who is this God compared us three? Are we, His image, not better than He? Is not our greatness exposed for all of the world to see?
Brother 2: Yes my brother, I am inclined to agree. For I am an axe who is capable of felling any tree. Be it cedar, maple, or oak. No matter how tall or how small. All I need is a mighty hand to swing me, and I shall lower them all
Brother 3: Ah my foolish brother, you are nothing more than a brute, where as I myself am a beautiful flute. I’m the one people desire as they feast and they dine. The one they enjoy as they sip on their wine. All I need is someone to breathe through me, and I shall make a sound most divine.
Brother 1: Silly brother, who are you to try and pretend? For you know that to the heights of my glory you shall never ascend. For great as you are, of us three you are least. You shall not rise, as bread lacking yeast. Where as I am a well of knowledge, for I am a book. People have travelled far and wide just so upon me they may look. The information I contain has built kingdoms from dust, and left empires shook. I record all of that which I see, just so long I have an author to write within me.
Brother 2: Brothers now is not the time to argue about who is greatest and who is least, but let us sit together and enjoy our feast.
Brother 3: My brother you are right. This is not the time to argue, let us not fight, but rather let us lift up our glasses as I propose a toast. For we three brothers are the pinnacle for most.
Narrator: Fools! Who are you to arrogantly boast?
For You are but mere tools, who are useless unless you are used by your Master
And the works of your hands are doomed to collapse, as a wall built without mortar or plaster.
For you trust in knowledge, strength, and fame, looking to them for your power
But their power is fleeting, and they shall depart from you in your final hour
The works of your hands shall crumble to dust at times passing
But as for God, His work shall be everlasting
How can man hope to compare to the almighty God?
For He is the One who spoke forth the heavens and created the earth
He was the One who formed man from the dust, and was there when woman first gave birth.
He is the judge who shall pass forth our sentence
And the only One with the power to bring forth works of repentance.
You think that your glory shines so valiant, so bright
But in the wake of His glory, it shall appear as day, even in the darkest of night.
So raise up your glasses, and make ye your toast,
But as for me, it is in the Lord God I shall boast-
This is a beautiful poem. Have you ever performed spoken word before? I can see this piece being performed reading this gave me so much imagery with conversation between the three brothers. I really enjoyed reading the tone of this poem as well. Thank you for sharing such a wonderful poem!
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Thank you for your kind words!! I haven’t really done spoken word before. I mean I recorded a poem once like a year ago and put it online. But that’s about it.
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Ava Lawrey shared a letter in the
Poetry group 6 months ago20 Birthdays
Ava Lawreyto listen in order to speak,
to speak in order to be heard-
a human flaw we’ve come to
adopt
robbing us of the beauty of
what it means to be
human
to connect-
fully.we live in a world where your response
matters more
than the proposal,
where the aftermath, the outcome,
is better than the journey-
we’ve lost the beauty in the becoming
too busy rushing to be.we’ve adopted the butterfly
as the mascot of freedom,
her beautiful wings spreading wide,
ready to take on the world-
we neglect
what it took to get there
the caterpillar who lurks,
stuck in the before.we celebrate our 18th birthday
then our 21st
then the 25th
and our 30th.
glossing over the others-
because, somehow
they’re unimportant.and at 30,
you’ll wonder where your 20s went-
as if you didn’t
only celebrate them twice.at 30, you’ll wonder where time went,
feeling like you lost your ‘prime’
as if,
during this time,
you weren’t just waiting for the next best thing:
turn 30, get married, own a home,
start a family.now what?
you’ll wait to turn 40.
maybe gather family for celebrations
as you realize you are just a
watered down version of yourself-
the dreamer of your 20s slowly
slipped through the drains of a city
that used to inspire you-you’ll wonder what happened to your zest,
when you stopped writing,
when you stopped looking up,
and looking down instead.maybe-
you got too used to it
to enjoy it-
the architecture used to wow you,
now
you casually pass it by on your weekly Sunday walk to trader joe’s,
you don’t look up at it anymore,
or stop in the middle of the street
to capture the perfect photo,
one that will humble you-
and will live on,
or so you thought.but it didn’t stop there,
you stopped smiling at strangers
you stopped losing your breath every time you saw the Manhattan skyline at night
your inspirations became too comfortable
and the appreciation swept away.so what’s next?
you’ll turn 40 and realize half a life has gone by
since you last had a
lust for life,
half a life has gone by
since you last got your breath taken away
by the beauty of your new home.so, you’ll spend the next 20 years
begging for your youth back
as the wrinkles multiply-
you’ll celebrate every
single
birthday
between 40 and 60,
because there is 20 birthdays inbetween
40 and 60-
not just four.you’ll teach yourself the in-betweens
are worth celebrating too,
that turning 42 is somehow,
just as special as turning 21-you’ll teach yourself that while
it feels like you have already lived so
many lives,
it’s still your first- and only- life.you’ll teach your kids that you’re still growing up too-
that youthfulness and adulthood can coexist,
that 60 is the new 21
and to listen is
just as important
as to speak.-
Beautifully said Ava. I believe we get older with wisdom and better with time. Even with children they teach us so much as it shows that we are never too young or old to continue learning. I love the turning point of this poem. How at the beginning it seemed like growing old is a dark and shameful thing but you ended the poem with how there’s b…read more
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Yes, absolutely- I think all generations can teach us so much about ourselves. As I’m entering my mid-20s I’m learning to walk the fine line of youth and adulthood and embrace them both <3 I'm happy it resonated with you 🙂
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Courtney Beksel shared a letter in the
Poetry group 6 months agoStay
Courtney BekselYou took advantage of a vulnerable situation
Gave me your hand that led me to lies
I just wanted you to stay
Now I need you to stay awayEmpty promises of passion and adventure
Sounded so great until you took it away
I wish I could hate you but I have too much empathy
Still, I hope you stay a million miles awayStay with me
Stay away
Stop playing this little game
I wish you could take all the blame
We’re both guilty of the sky turning greyIn ten years you will be ready for something more
When you come I won’t answer the door
Permanently closed to the idea of reconciliation
I threw away the key to our ultimate fantasy
Stay where you are
Don’t come back to me-
Courtney, this is such a powerful poem. You are heard through this platform and I’m so happy that you are able to walk away from a situation that no longer served your purpose. You are a light unto others who have a hard time expressing how they feel. This is a beautiful piece. Thank you!
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Thank you! That means so much.<3
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