Up Again

In the night
I hear soft mutterings of some
Inner voice
It is not so much comforting
As it is great
I wish I could share its wisdom
But it is too much to expose
Too personal for something so non-existent
So unheard
But in the silence of insomnia
So loud

Absence

Another poem found...this one I have NO recollection of.
Dated May 4th (no year)

If ever a day the sun had shone
The moon would bid me say twas last
For every star was then aligned
All sacred did each hour pass
And thought the time will stay no more
Never will it be forgot
Each memory engraved in mine
Each second for which we, emblazoned, fought
And so the night was ever-lit
Yet ever-ending for me still
You never outstay your welcome as
The sun and moon do never touch

Stitches

Another poem found cleaning. This one I remember writing last year.

Some friendships are torn apart
But if so, were they ever glued
With the fiery devotion and air of loyalty
Or mottled with disinterest?
The second hand ticks and time will not stop for us
Not for your excuses your
Empty desire to repair while
Hiding behind a mask of inability
I don't blame you though
Nor do I differ in position
I do not possess any wish for your attention
Rather do I feel adversely -
Bid you look away from my life and its perceived relevance to you
YOU are irrelevant, by the way
Not but a speck of memory
A scrap of paper
A shallow poem written with shallower intentions
Amusing myself
But you entertain notions of intimacy and relay to many a closeness that was ever lacking
So from that have I gained an ambivalence of disrespect and pity
I am swaying towards the latter
They say jealousy works the opposite of how one intends
True
You are living proof
And so we are torn apart
And I sit here-forth
Tearing at the seams

Seasoned

Just found this while cleaning out my bedside table =)
Dated April.09/08 11:00AM

Outside, in the spring air, I can't breathe.
The sun is shining too brightly.
The gentle breeze is abrasive.
I wait for summer to arrive in
It's temperamental glory.
The way it will expose the raw bits;
The edges of skin that are shrinking too slowly.
Hiding from its rays is a futile effort -
An activity of pointlessness.
People everywhere are removing pieces of themselves,
Letting the sun soak in
Where the freezing winter once took its place.
And though it was brutal, it was protective.
Not so honest, so vulnerable.
Not so needy and vile and hot.
Not so much like the thing I am running from.