My bedroom floor

I cried until it was a carpet of soggy, snotty tissues
And breathed the silent, earthquake sobs.

I screamed to crack the quiet.
And prayed. But there was no miracle.

So I read. And consumed the words without digestion for something to fill my mind.

Now I cannot pause.
If even for a moment my mind was not occupied this vicious loneliness
would pour in and consume me.

And the floor would overflow, smothering me in my own used tears.
And the shaking sobs would separate my body.

I survive.
But surviving is far from living the marvelous life I was intended.

Once, I knew how to really live.
But the sorrow attacked my mind and ate away the knowledge.
I must re-learn how to be alive.
Until the lessons, I can only survive.

Block.

I misplaced my words
they were right there! At the corner
bold and deliberate.

So, either they have been
abducted
or they ran away of their own accord,
afraid of the future I'd planned for them.

I fear that they have run, for there
is no evidence of foul-play
or demand of ransom which would be typical

Perhaps it's for the better.
It may have been a waste; too perfect
in poetry can repulse and strip away that color

If you find my words- those perfect
phrases that may pop into your head
or dibble from your lips
and you just know they couldn't come from you

please care for them, but you
need not return them to me, because
they chose to leave
and I am not one to force my words.

but, if you can recall the phrase
they formed themselves into
I am curious on how they arranged
and what the finished product was.

Not that I wouldn't have loved them dearly,
but there are others.
I have an endless supply,
it just the distribution schedule which troubles me.