365 Poetry Project

I will oblige my inner poet, and my determined nature to do something somewhat gratifying by writting a poem a day, for well 365 days. like it says. my year in poetry. enjoy :)

Confessions is a public art project that invites people to anonymously share their confessions and see the confessions of the people around them in the heart of the Las Vegas strip.

(Source: fredydecisive, via d-e-g-a-u-s-s-e-r)


People seem to forget how quickly things change

How easy it is to go from strangers to friends to strangers again

We get so caught up in the result

That we forget the process

That we are too busy rushing towards death, to enjoy life

To slow down, to breathe it in, and exhale love.

I myself am a victim

And cannot excuse my behavior to the reasoning of life

Because if anything I am the problem for not choosing to live mine.


Perhaps I am as naïve as you state

Vulnerable to the hurt you may inflect

However let me consider it my problem, not yours

That someday I may end up hurt or damaged

For I trusted to much

Or loved too hard

That the hopeless romantic is tossed aside again

Because I hold no value or merit

But if you chose to discard me and my heart

You will have regrets.

Though when I look back, I most certainly won’t.

It’s a choice.


While your head hits the pillow

I hope that I grace your dreams

Miss you in the way you never miss me

Where you’re dying for the moment we won’t be apart

Where the blankets that cover you, you wish were my arms

Where your radio were my heartbeat instead

That you weren’t alone in that big, empty bed

That that annoying alarm was instead my voice

Where love was easier, and no longer a determined choice.

I wish that distance were just a little bit easier

And my text messages were simply less cheesier

But if you’ve shown me anything at all

All you need is a glimmer, no matter how small.


It’s sometimes so hard being on my own

Because relationships only do so much

Self-reliance is necessary for survival

I don’t have the control others do

I rely too much, and require attention those around me can’t provide

I’m a problem, more a hassle than a real friend

And no one wants a hassle.

Perhaps it’s why I’m on my own more often than not

Because I’m not a good pretender. I can’t be fake.

But I’ve learned I also can’t be on my own.