Hello everyone!

I have another poem to share with you. I was originally going to do a post pondering the question “do we rise to the occasion when we have busier schedules?” but I didn’t really know how to answer that, considering that for me it honestly depends on what that “busier schedule” looks like and the mental headspace I’m in. I can still do that post in the future if anyone’s interested and I figure out how to approach it, but for now I figured I would tackle it as I tackle most things, by writing a poem.

My Plate

i divide my plate into sections, just like how mama taught me when i was young, how i needed to eat the rainbow and have a little bit of everything for each meal. she told me i needed to incorporate all the food groups, and to eat everything i was served. it would be rude not to.

i give slivers of myself away, not even realizing until i’m left with one tiny portion of the plate still filled. i twirl my fork and mash up the remainders of all the food that was once there. it’s not really a rainbow- it’s a brown pile of mush, and the texture is questionable.

no amount is too much for me. i load up on everything imaginable, everything available, whether i like it or not. it doesn’t really matter though, because i’ll give it away as soon as someone asks, only regretting it because of the sound my knife makes as i scrape it away.

all my utensils are still lined up perfectly on the table. sure, there’s a little brown mush on them, but who cares? certainly not me, as there’s no food left on my plate. they’re no use to me anyway.

I hope you enjoyed this poem. Thank you for all the support in my writing endeavors 🙂

Brooke

Hello everyone!

Today I have another poem to share with you. Per usual, it’s another topic I considered discussing on my blog in a more opinion, sharing-my-thoughts type of post, but figured I could express better in creative writing. I’m so thankful that my poetry has been well-received on here, so thank you guys again for being supportive and allowing me to feel comfortable posting my vulnerable thoughts on the Internet. It’s like a tiny corner of support and I love it 🙂

Doubting You

it’s Friday night and I’m in my room, waiting for you to call it’s getting late and I don’t really expect to hear my upbeat ringtone play and see your face light up my screen anymore. I’m always ready for the worst, ready for you to let go but I get that way with everyone. it’s not you, it’s me. a classic cliché, I know- it’s used differently here though. I’m not breaking up with you. I’m assuming you’re breaking up with me. and it would be my fault, right? because in this world everything is. I’m doubting you because I doubt me. when you even doubt yourself, who can you rely on?

I know this was a short one, but you can probably tell most of my poems are pretty short. I wanted to touch on the topic of self-doubt and how insecurities can prevent you from having genuine relationships with others. I think it’s funny how I write a lot about love and relationships and I could not be more single, but it’s what pops into my head. Typical teenage stuff, I guess.

Please, please, please leave suggestions for future creative writing or feedback on this poem/any of my writing I’ve posted in the past. I would love to get some inspiration from you guys since you’re the ones reading it here.

Brooke