#malharris

I have been missing my dreams When I wake they are gone But a memory of feeling And my unfamiliar name When I normally remember With such passion Worlds where I belong more It seems a reflection Of my current placement An age of inexperience And responsibility Watching time slip slip away Looking back on past days

Titans Looking Down

on the damned and the dead

Figuring they still got a say

In our pointless lives

What more can I take?

Echos in my thoughts

Life always responds

From what I know and strive

I hope for peace

In your body

And in my mind

Anger comes too easily

But only if we let it

Only if we try

We can mend what went wrong

With each other

We can stand empowered and strong

With each other

Come and take my hand

You’re my lantern in the night

The star that always shines

Only if you let it

I know I’ll help you try

Speaking in itself is a minefield of mistakes and sentences I will tumble over

I find I must remind myself that you are not defined as a writer by how good you are at writing or your ability to connect with any reader

You are defined as such by the action of attempted connection and the expression of hopeful release

Others don’t need to read, view, or understand your words for them to have meaning or for you to call yourself a writer

Just as the raw yearning in my belly doesn’t truly equate myself to a starving artist

I have to remind myself I am my own greatest muse

For anything I find meaning in must be perceived by only myself

maybe its because I’ve gotten foggy lately

maybe its because I’m on my period

maybe its because i haven’t eaten in a while

its harder to remember

i don’t feel hunger like i used to

you ignored my texts even though I was sitting next to you in the crumb filled bed

and i could hear the teasing dinging of your phone

i had tried talking first but it fell on your already full ears

your eyes leave your screen to crawl over my skin only if i make a displeasing noise or move too much to your liking 

we are both the kind of people who can relax in quite company 

silent but still together

but i have never been so shut out by you 

your silence turned to suppression turned to distance 

i have to yell at you for you to hear me 

the distance is so great

you check out

i check the clock - its 9:30 now

you laugh at your phone

i speak to a wall

you’ve barely spoken to me

i yell at you

you chew with your mouth open

i miss our silent company

you don’t hear me 

i still stay  

When I Loved You Between the Pages 

When I first walked into your room I realized I wanted to adorn your bed the way

Books so dedicatedly decorated the shelves that lined your room

I wanted to be the book you read before shutting your eyes

The one you hesitate to put down

The one you can only let go of until after your eyes adjust to the dark

And you can read just a few more words

I want you to place me on your bedside table underneath a glass of water 1/4th of the way full

As if you believe the meager weight of the glass could hold back the entire world beneath my cover

As if you’re scared I’ll open my pages and fly away before you wake

i want to be the story you find tangled in your sheets the next morning

Lazy weekend smiles are shared as I wake up

And as you reminisce about last night with a tender warmness that makes it feel like you’ve known me for years

“Why must connection be so fleeting?” Your eyes seem to scream at me in the moments we are most connected

But your story, my love, I want to read again,

And again, and again

And again

Do I need to wait till midnight to have a midnight thought?

I feel like I have written a poem of love for every time of day

Yet have never truly been awake