My Poem ‘Wake up, Mark’

My heart feels like lead.
I don’t even want to get out of bed.
My head is pounding. My mind is swimming.
I feel numb. I have forgotten the touch and the heat of the sun.

At work I am making mistakes, I can’t do anything right.
At home I am reminded of every thing and every one that I have lost,
but the worst thing is that I feel like I have lost the will to write.

The words and the conversations that I have had with people
over the last couple of days have been rattling around in my head
and driving me insane-
to me, love is not something you can pretend to be in,
you are either in love or you are not-
love is not a game.

I am not perfect, and I don’t claim to be and never have,
but what I am is someone caring, passionate, full of energy,
full of life, and the farther the distance between me and someone
I put every second of thought into bridging and connecting
with someone as much as I can.

I have been told that I simplify things too much,
that I sometimes focus and obsess on things and people too much,
and I have to agree with that, I know that about myself,
that is what makes me such a good writer, I like to think-
I like to think, I like to feel, I like to be lost in something
and someone, I like, I love, to be in love.

Anyone on the outside looking in on me and on my relationships
would think that I seek out chaos, that I like the rocky road
more than I do the flat, maintained, tarmac of a highway-
however they would be mistaken, because, believe me,
I want nothing more than to be with someone, to be happy,
and for them to be happy with me,
living the quiet, simple life of embracing and making the most
of every second together,
and never even to think or ever want to walk away.

I have walked away from things and people in the past,
and every time I have hated myself after for it.
I don’t want to walk away from anything ever,
or anyone that I care about and love-
but sometimes I feel like I have worn out my welcome
and I have said and done all I can,
but what is below my feet now resembles a worn-out piece of carpet.

I am hurting.
I am confused.
I am like a computer that needs rebooting.
I am like a battery that has lost its charge and is now used.

It will all be ok tomorrow- I keep telling myself.
It will all work itself out- a friend of mine once told me.
It will be a brand new day, a brand new year.
It will be a fresh start- at least I hope it will be.
It will be a time to change again,
it will be a time to change everything,
and even though it will be hard,
I am willing to see how far I can go-
as long as I remember what my sister told me yesterday:
to “don’t change (my) good heart”.

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My Poem ‘Purple, Stars, and Sparkly things’

Purple, stars, and sparkly things
are some of my sister’s favourite things-
she coordinates everything:
from her make-up, to her t-shirt,
from the colour of her socks,
to the theme of her wedding!
Purple is a nice colour,
purple is tranquil;
purple is not the colour
that I would say says everything
about my sister Clare,
but she definitely has more stars in her eyes
with every stare.
My sister Clare, has a unique flare-
there is no one else like her,
which she already knows,
and I just wanted to say
Happy Birthday, Clare!