C J Weatherholt• Show poetry

hello?

I feel so lost


and the words won't come
and my mouth is dry
and my palms are sweating

I just...


   I just feel lost


what do you do when you can't feel?
or you can't find yourself?
or you feel too much?
or you are something you can't define?

what do you do when you can't tell the difference
   between neediness and necessity?


or when help is too little
or too much

or both at the same time?


and you don't want to wash your hair
or be clean
  or smell the flowers
or smile

and it's not funny
it's not funny anymore
when she speaks
and you're supposed to laugh
but you can't
so you smile
because it's expected
but you can't laugh
and the smile isn't there
it isn't
because you don't feel it
and if you don't feel it
it isn't there


so what do you do?

because I feel lost
and I can't find my way home
and the headlights are out
and the battery is dying
and what is home anyway?
where is it?
do you know?
I used to, I think

or maybe I'm just pretending


did it ever exist?

so I'm on the side of the road
  somewhere
with the sky overhead

or...underhead

and I'm watching the cars go by
go by so fast I'm not seeing them

and I'm not sure
           that... I'm not even sure they are there

I can't feel them
so they must not be there



what am I doing
 and how did I get here?

how did we get here?


you're reading my poem



why?
what is this to you?

is it morning or night?

are you female or male?



  do I know you?
and who are you anyway?

do you have brown hair and brown eyes?

or maybe they are green?
your lips are pink
or red?

have you ever touched my hand?
would it be awkward if you did?
you should

touch somebody's hand sometime
soon

I have small hands

do you?


you are
sitting there,
and you're reading this

and...what are you thinking?

that I'm insane?
is this bad poetry?

you know

by the time you finish reading this

I might be dead


did you ever think about that?


did you?
huh?

or maybe I am
and you already knew that

was it tragic?
or common?


I bet it was tragic

it seems...

   it seems to always be tragic

go away please
please?
go away

I can't look at you anymore
brown eyes staring into nothingness
I'm so sick of nothingness

I'm going to turn around
and walk out that door

and I'm never coming back


check your pulse

are you still breathing?

Our Rain
By Catressa
October 6, 2005

And it swallowed me in visions


and I muted and frozen


watched as his eyes spoke volumes.








My breath was stolen from me that day


in the rain


so was my soul.





Attuned to the knowledge


this wasn't forever


but a moment


lived.





Recklessly


but passion was found in our moist breaths


and tender touches.





He made me his for a moment


and I bare the stain


but no regrets.





Our own waltz in the rain


shadows the sun


but burns brighter


Now that he's gone..