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.
Tag: sadness
😢
it’s okay-
to mimic the rain,
to shatter the glass,
to run the faucet without care.
pain,
heartbreak,
fear,
tragedy,
life.
even the strongest
must cry sometimes.
💤
one would think
that after resting for 26 years,
they would have energy.
energy to explore-
to run with speed,
to love with passion,
to write with fire,
to live without fear.
but no-
i am still so tired.
🌧️
another stormy day-
the sky screaming
as the clouds fight
and their tears fall.
they hit the windshield
as i commute to work,
reminding me that
i am not the only
broken one.
🧳
i tucked my life into a suitcase,
shirts still holding the shape of my hangers,
memories tucked between zippers.
the floor creaked like it knew,
but no one else did.
no note.
no goodbye.
just the soft click of the door
closing behind me,
like a breath held too long.
the morning was gray,
grass still full of dew,
and the silence
finally had a chance to speak.
the car started up,
a slow cry as if
it was pleading for me to stay-
to at least tell them my thoughts.
goodbye would have hurt too much-
made me second guess
and likely stay.
the road is smooth,
humming as the adventure begins.
epilogue
the windows stay shut,
but the breeze still finds its way in-
an unwanted whisper through the cracks
no one bothers to seal.
the branches claw at the roof,
like Death attempting to
take the last breath
i never wanted to keep.
some mornings,
the mirror forgets to show me
at all-
reminding me how
empty i am.
and the storm clouds-
they keep lowering themselves,
inch by inch,
like they’re trying
to carry me quietly
away.
maybe i should let them.
i think i will.
rog's poems 