Doesn't Need a Name

Doesn’t Need a Name

You’re not lost.

You’re here.

The grass is a brighter green that you’ve seen before but it’s yours.

These white walls aren’t supposed to be here.

We just need to be out there.

Eyes around the room.

See.

Choose.

Love is what they want.

She was blurry.

I only got parts of her, where others were a distortion, a range of blur and lack of existence.

Of what I saw, if it were a sound if would be calm, a sound of sunlight, in the most beautiful note, and just that single note. It pierces enough to spark a feeling I had not known. She was a color when you had only seen white before.

And she didn’t choose me.

This grass isn’t mine.

I’m not here.

Author's Note

Not sure when I wrote this or why. But I felt like sharing.

Reviews

[K]

It makes me think of people who committed suicide. You never know their reasons, but they could have felt lost. They could have felt like no one chose then. That the grass wasn't theirs. And that they weren't there. Therefore, they committed suicide. Good poem with I'm sure multiple views on it.