Norah Jones

Laying in my room
not really trying to sleep
knowing I need it.

Norah Jones on repeat.
Five; Six times, now,
and my mind wanders...

Writers of Past

I long to write
like the
writers of past.

Eloquent words
placed ever so carefully
on each page.

Spilled out from
within
their soul.

Seemingly as though they
must think in rhythm
to produce such beautiful verse.

Spontaneous and Intimate Thoughts

as I lay here in the light
watching my ink roll
I contemplate my life
and all I've gotten myself into

I feel like an artist
deep in the night
having confined myself to my studio
until I produce some work worth merit

my eyes shifting
following the pen
everything falling in and out
of focus

listening to oldies
I know most of these songs
they're all before my time
they had good music then

pouring out my spontaneous,
intimate thoughts
personal or not
still, and deep from within

sleep drifts, closer
as my eyes begin to droop
and my pen nears the edge
of the
page.

This

I am having issues
I like you
and most days I want you
but
I don't want this

This wasn't supposed to happen in the first place
I didn't want a relationship
I didn't want a man
I was doing just great on my own

Where did you come from
Where did this come from
I didn't have a reason to say yes
and yet,
I still didn't say no.