feminine, life, Love, poetry

By Myself

Late night sirens and cheap

microwave popcorns,

an empty Chardonnay

and mounting bills

Why am I always in

this myself?

My mind racing

am I counting worries

by sugar teaspoons?

Frantically cleaning the

cemented floor to rub

of the coffee stains.

Will I ever make it? Is

the question many are

asking but why I be the one?

I smile and sing rhymes

longing for some

praise, after-all itโ€™s

not a crime. Fears and

worries linger but

there is hope but

hope is dangerous and

uncertainty too sneaky.

Shall I make the first move

but It might never work.

Let me smile and just

keep it to myself.

No Iโ€™m not an open book.

I will throw fake smiles

at your placid jokes offer

an icy kiss but I rather be

a mystery and be by myself.

24 thoughts on “By Myself”

    1. I know right? Mystery is cool anyways no one is interesting in knowing about us, so better be mysterious ๐Ÿ˜

  1. If I am not myself, I wonder what I might be, and I ask, what is the shelf life of who I could be…
    Just a bit of rumble in the jungle Tanya….
    Your poem stirred my thoughts on what may be..๐Ÿ˜Š

    1. Hi Ivor thanks for your like and great insight, agreed if we canโ€™t be ourselves than what would we be, appreciate it.

    1. Hi Jackie indeed the beauty of being by ourselves… thanks for your like and comment, appreciate it.

  2. A beautiful description of the inner worries many of us bury deep down and project a carefree facade instead. Powerful words!

      1. Have not read his Ulysses some day might!
        I don’t enjoy stream of consciousness though!

      2. hmm I wrote a poem on Oedipus too, will post some day. If it’s dirty I am tempted!

      3. the last chapter is pure smut from a female perspective…not tasteful at all ๐Ÿ˜ฏ๐Ÿ˜ฏ

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