self-expression – Under the Cedar Trees

Empty Prompts

“Keep writing poems, friend.”
I tell the woman facing me.
“You still have more to say…

or the ones I pass along to you
that may not speak to you
but only to me
in a way I can never explain

Wishing to transform
as I turn away once more
I become nothing

So many poems I’ve written!
Would that I could tell you what they mean!

January 10, 2026

Still, I try to hand you a little piece of me every day:
a single grape pulled from a vine of many.

I can say it, and that seems to get the message across. But all the rest of my love just falls flat.

One day before you’re gone
When the need is too high again
You will need to dry your arm
For a second time

August 5, 2025
12:10 am

I feel so guilty just for being alive.

I’m not right in the head and I think I never will be.

I just need to get this out tonight.

“It’s too much. Again. Again, you go too far!”
I hear it loud and clear.
“You are too much!”

I am too much,
But — too much for what? Too much for who?
…

Crying is blocked when others would or possibly could see it.
When it does happen, I’m almost always alone.