Oh she reads your poems twice
That must be rather nice
I live by its creed
Your written word my seed
But it’s her you like
So I stay out of sight
© Delia Ross. 2019
Words are the only thing left holding me together.
Oh she reads your poems twice
That must be rather nice
I live by its creed
Your written word my seed
But it’s her you like
So I stay out of sight
© Delia Ross. 2019
I’m always torn. When I read sad poetry I want to be sad about it, but I also want to be like ‘damnnnnn you’re good at poetry’. I’m not really sure the latter is appropriate, but even in six lines, it’s way better than anything I could ever write. So damn, you’re good at poetry!!
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I always hope the sarcasm takes the edge off. My self-worth is a well run dry these days. Every fiber of me deploys parachutes of hopelessness. I give up. (Oh, while I am busy self-loathing, I wanted to say thank you. It made the effort worthwhile).
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Love this one! 🖤
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Thanks so much!
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No problem! The tone of this piece is great! 🖤
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I appreciate that. I’ve been exploring my other voices and I feel like this one has a double meaning. It’s like trying to figure out pieces of a puzzle, how can I put words together to make them clever. I’m a child trying to keep up with the grownups. I’m literally shutting down. So I figured that side of me should be heard too. Thanks for listening.
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Take your fucking paragons and shove them up your ass.
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Ooft, could not have written that paragraph better myself! Perhaps there’s something in the water just now …
Always happy to read and happy to listen too. Love your work 👍🖤
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That’s like a little fishing line of hope in a pond of loathing. So I’m grateful, thank you.
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No problem 🖤
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