Three Leaf Clovers

Watching the seconds pass by.




Tick. Tick. Tick.



Listening to the rainfall.



Drip. Drip. Drip.



I love how the sounds play inside my mind


as if they're a soft melody, a sad song.



& the tune keeps repeating,


over and over again.






I lie awake






drawing your name on the ceiling,


using nothing more than the tip of my finger


and imaginary ink.


I move it in every direction


painting countless pictures,


images only I can see.






My world feels so cold, so empty,


I miss your warm cuddles, your giggle.






I just can't stop whispering,


can't stop talking to myself.


"Let me go, I beg you let me be."






Hundreds of thoughts rush through my mind,


endless rivers that’s what they feel like.


Memories, so many memories,






like a picture album with so many photos.






I feel so alone,


Like a ghost,


do I even exist to you?

Up where you are...






I toss and turn from side to side,


trying to get rid of the thoughts,


trying to get rid of what


once was.






Again,






I say,


let me go, I beg you let me be.


I just want to run in the fields,


swim in the sea,


float with the clouds.


But my legs are so tired,


and my lungs are exhausted just trying to breathe.


My arms are way too short to grab a hold of the sky






and pull myself away.






I say it one more time,


let me go, I beg you let me be.


And I could repeat this line a million times.


I'd still miss you though,


like a withered flower misses the rain.


I yearn to touch you,


like the moon wishes to touch the earth,


but it isn't gravity that attracts me to you,


it's something more powerful,


this invisible cord that ties you to me....

a mother to her child



feels like I'm watching you from a distance






I'm blinded by my dreams,


forsaken to see a reality that never existed.






This cell isn't my home and looking out the window just isn't the same.


& your laughter and "mummy" continue to echo throughout the empty halls.




We live our life in patterns,


moving from one tragedy to the next.







It's as if you're


reading the same story


over and over,


yet the ending never changes.


Even if you tore the book apart


word for word, page by page.







Only, if only I could turn back time,






let me turn this hour-glass upside down.






B e c a u s e   r e g r e t






is taking over


my mind, my soul, and my heart.