Inside My Head


Photo Credit: Hidden-target at

I live too much
inside my head.

I read
beautiful things,
and tell no one.

You’d think I’d forget
and just say,
“hey, listen to this,”
and then read out
some pretty poem
to whoever will listen,

but I don’t.

I think,
“that was lovely
or heartbreaking
or hilarious,”
and I move on,
or internalize,

because I know
the people listening
wouldn’t care
about some stanza
that struck
just the right key,
pinged just the right feelings
to make me laugh or cry

and I think it’s sad
that I live alone in this,
that these beautiful moments
stay inside instead of out.




4 thoughts on “Inside My Head

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