I long for words I’ve never written
and for songs I’ve never sung.
I long for feelings I’ve never felt
and for bells I’ve never rung.
I’ve imagined these possibilities–
my mind does this when I’m down–
It makes problems out of naught
just like a dust mote on a crown.
Though reminiscing about nothing
and self-berating causes shame,
this cycle is too persuasive
and this cycle calls my name.
Now, my blue skies all have faded
to shades both gray and dark
with no more hope of sunshine
to light the outlines oh, so stark.
I cannot fight or face it–
I’ve already gone too deep
I can’t climb from this chasm
Nor call for help nor leap.
So, please come Serotonin,
please come Dopamine,
please come Vigor for Life,
please come Fresh, and please come Green.
Take me back to my home–
I have somehow lost my way.
I became trapped by fake tomorrows
and by pretend yesterdays.
I’ve tried to end this poem
on a nice, uplifting note,
but today, I just can’t make it happen.
Photo by Aakash Sethi from Pexels
Today’s resource for knowledge and compassion is the International Association for Suicide Prevention (IASP), which lists suicide prevention helplines throughout the world and in various languages. Just use the helpful map on their homepage to select your continent, and you’ll be redirected to a list of hotlines and websites that might be pertinent to you.
The Yellow Brick Ave 
Fake tomorrows and pretend yesterdays !! Wow Joy.. this is amazing 😊
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Thanks, Nima!
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You’re welcome Joy 💞
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I’m so so moved with your words. There’s word play and wonderful wonderful imagery. I’m so in love with your poetry. Please keep writing dear. Peace to you.
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I will keep writing! Thank you for your kind words!
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My absolute pleasure. Peace ✌️
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The first stanza in particular resonates with me as I’ve just gotten out of a four and a half year relationship. Looking back now, I realize how depressed I was in the relationship and how I had surrendered my identity. I always wanted to be a writer. But I wasn’t writing. And so I feel the pain of your first line. I remember what that felt like. Stifling.
But once my ex left me, I finally returned to me. And so did my voice and my writing. It’s been the most wondrous transformation and I’m grateful for it. But I can remember what that stagnation felt like through your words. Thank God I’m not there anymore.
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I am so glad that my poem spoke to you like that, and I’m glad that you have rediscovered yourself and your passion. Wishing you peace and happiness going forward! 💛
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