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Poem #352

Does losing creativity mean you have lost your soul?
Does the inability to create art mean you became hollow?

Life should be a well of inspiration but it was what
stripped your passion for expression away.

We have it all and we became the survive nation of the world.
There is no living in pretending to be happy.

The trinkets you acquire to fill empty spaces of your spirit
will always be just trinkets that break easily and go out of fashion.

Maybe salvation is in the rediscovery.
Rediscovery of beauty, art, living and poetry.
The rediscovery of the soul.

Latest Poem: Poem #351
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Poem #336

I am giving everything away
and the bar is low.
You just need to love me a little bit more
than I love myself and that’s easy to do.

Last poem by Luna: Poem #335
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Poem #335

Somewhere between the smoke and alcohol,
the hobbies and oversleeping,
the binges and the purges
you realize it was never a writers block.

You screamed your words at that page
to let go, to release.
You never expected they would scream
right back at you.

You used to write to let it all out
now you fake writers block to keep it all in.
Just to avoid reading what you feel.
Just to avoid facing your own fears.

Last poem by Luna: Poem #334
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Poem #332

There was nothing. Not even a spark.
When you kissed me, it felt like you were
kissing someone else. I couldn’t feel your hands.
There was no love, just the need to avoid loneliness.
It was like we were drinking from an empty cup
and wondered why we felt thirst.

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Poems

Poem #332 – Purge

You wake up with nausea and dizziness
but not with the will to wake up.
Go through the day not feeling like yourself,
you are selling your soul to the devil and that
devil is the world you are trapped in.
At night, before bed, you are in the shower for hours.

You are trying to purge the sin from your body with water
as if you just stepped out of a Bible while in reality
you have been questioning the existence of God
for years now. You turn the water off, your body is burning
but for a moment there you feel clean.
You promise yourself that in the morning it will be better.

You wake up with nausea and dizziness
but not with the will to wake up.
You are already late so you do not have time to
have a shower to see if the magic works in the morning as well.
You slap on a smile to avoid the questions, not realizing
this fakeness is eating away at your soul.

The poet inside of you invites you to write the feelings down,
he whispers in your ear that they are bottled up.
So you try to purge that thing out of your body with
words and verses for yourself or for the world to read,
laugh at, call you crazy because of that.
But for a moment there, it empties your mind.

It’s all for moments, nothing lasts.
You cannot purge something rotten that grew inside.
You can only heal it but you are too weak from trying
to purge it out as if a broken heart can be purged.
You are just tired and want to close your eyes
but the demons never sleep.

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Poems

Poem #331

Just come home.
This is not in a selfish way, I am not
asking you to come back to me.
I am asking you to come home. 

To the home that doesn’t have a roof
or 4 walls.
To the home where you feel safe, 
no matter where it is.
Just come home. 

The lines and the smoke won’t 
ease that mind. You need to come home.
There is safety in the light,
there can be peace in the dark.
Just come home. 

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Poems

Poem #330

I do not need you.
I have been through hell and back,
got out by myself.
I shower in burning hot water
to make my skin remember of how
much I am capable of.

I do not need you.
I learned the hard way to stand
on my own two feet.
My knees still bleed, the bruises
pulsate but it doesn’t stop
me from getting up every day.

I do not need you. I want you.
I want you to kiss every wound,
touch every weakness.
You look like you are smart
enough to know what type of
blessing that is.

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Poems

Poem #329

When I said “Don’t break my heart”
it wasn’t a suggestion.
It was a prayer.

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Poems

Poem #328

If your soul craves art
like your body craves air
it means that he stole your peace.

You let him tear down the walls
of your museum and destroy
your books and paintings and melodies

Don’t follow him into the dark.
Let him have those ruined paintings,
ripped out book pages and distorted melodies.

You are strong enough to build a new masterpiece.

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Poems

Poem #252

I have wanted you for all the wrong reasons.
I still want you for all the wrong reasons
This is why you are not coming around.
This is why our worlds will never be one.
I wanted you so you can love me when I can’t
love myself and is there anything more selfish than that?