Author: Jacob Roggensack

🐦

a cottage eases into the morning,
windows shining with gold.
the lake trying to rest,
sunlight whispering against its skin.

birds spread music,
dew clings to grass like glue,
coffee drifts warm through the air.

it feels unreal-
this world finally coming alive.

your hand in mine,
the horizon opens,
a quiet miracle spilling across the water
as it disappears to an alarm.

it’s time for the day to actually start,
and the dreams to stop.

temptation

the stars don’t glow the way they used to-
their light feels weak,
as if even the sky has grown tired
of pretending.

i watch them,
waiting for a spark to break through,
but they only fade,
distant and pale,
like the hollow parts of me.

the one is still there,
shining brighter than the others,
reminding me of what i seek
but cannot have.

there’s a dirt path
that keeps whispering my name,
its curve pulling me away
from the noise,
from the faces,
from myself.

i know where it leads-
to a place where i can vanish
without protest,
without sound,
like a shadow blending in
when the stars finally go dark.

for once,
maybe i’ll listen to temptation.

weight ⚓

i never thought i’d make it.
not to here.
not to anywhere.

the fear kept me above the surface-
not hope,
it was never hope-
just the knowing
that if i went under
i might drag others down with me.

so i decided to float.

years blurred into a painting.
there were lights along the way.
faces.
hands that held mine without asking why they were cold-
why they were shaking.
moments so perfect they almost convinced me
this was worth living.

and sometimes,
i forgot to be afraid.

it happened more often.
the fear unraveling,
quickly disappearing.

until the day i noticed
it was gone.

no shadow trailing me.
no weight pulling at my ankles.

just still water.
too still.

and i understood-
the weight i thought was drowning me
was the only thing
keeping me afloat.

without it,
there is only the plunge.
the silence
and the knowledge
that the surface will not call me back.

that it is over.

disguise

being like this,
it isn’t fun.

i want to cry
but my body forgets how.
i want to scream
but my throat chooses silence.

i don’t want to shake
but my hands reveal my secret,
full of shame
and embarrassment.

i don’t want to drown
but my thoughts continue to pour in,
plugging the drain
and overfilling.

i don’t want to be this way,
fighting my battles alone.
scared to show my pain,
happy to share my disguise.

i wish someone could see
past the skin i wear so well,
and grab my hand
to calm my storm.

night drive

the path opens,
my car turning onto it
as dirt and gravel whisper under tired tires.

off the map and off the road,
not a streetlight in sight
nor is there a reason to stop.

the moon attempts to accompany me,
as do the stars,
but to no avail-
this is meant to be done alone.

just the hum of the engine
and whatever’s left of me clinging-
to the wheel?
to the body i carry?

i don’t know where i am,
maybe that’s the point.

the silence feels oh so heavy,
as if it knows
i wouldn’t mind
if it let me disappear into it.

rain doesn’t ruin.

some claim that rain ruins days-
washing away plans
as if they are not meant
to be rinsed sometimes.

as if the sky is not allowed to cry,
too full of emotion and struggle
to continue to shine and prosper.

one small puddle,
a forgotten umbrella,
or even just a rolled down window
and suddenly they hate it all.

but why view it with anger
and not beauty?
the dancing on rooftops,
flowing down hills,
shimmering in streetlights?

don’t hide from it-
embrace the joy from when
we were once young.
get soaked,
jump in those puddles,
celebrate the beauty of nature.

grab her hand and dance
in that empty parking lot,
laughing,
loving,
and remembering that this is
the beautiful world we live in.

make these moments worth it.

live without anger.

live with joy.