Small baby girl
still sees the world in color,
how can I teach her to handle the world?
My small, sweet girl,
how come she has to grow up too?
I hold her close to me every moment I can,
but she’s now big enough to play on her own,
little independent.
Sometimes I miss the smaller baby she once was,
still cherishing the baby she is today.
Raising a daughter is scary,
I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing.
Perhaps one day she may be a mom like me, wondering too, how she can raise one of her own.
petals work as one
held together at the stem,
until they are picked.
.
.
Our love was a flower
he loved me, he loved me not
it was back and forth.
.
.
A single flower
In a feild of dead bushes
starts to shed petals.
.
.
Sharp petals like blades
Peirce through my ankles as I
Run through my garden.
.
.
- Ceramic-Feelings
We are, indeed, out here creating media.
we are out here, creating media
a grain of sand on the beach
sifted by undulations,
where the ocean can reach—
sinking deeper in the tidal invasion.
And so it comes around full circle,
I’m having another baby
and my mom must’ve come
to send me a sign that she’s here
because my due date,
is the day she died.
squirm the herm worm
with no little toes
and no little eyes, and no little nose
a small long body
a body that’s round
that rises occasionally
up out of the ground.
The color of mahogany
Begins to drape my thoughts
Until it's all I can see.
The difference between
Fantasy and Reality
Is really only
The difference between
Open and closed eyes.
~ceramic-feelings
The tears trickle down my cheek
And slither down my neck,
Pooling in the crevice of my collarbone
Until they begin the overflow.
~ceramic-feelings
your heart a flower,
encapsulated by my
shielded garden walls.
~ceramic-feelings