Hollow

A scab has formed,
hardening over 
the open wound
that was my heart.

I try not to pick it,
because the healing helps
my mind and soul.
I am rediscovering me.

And while my outlook
is improving
and the skies not as dark,
I am hollow.

I do not feel happiness.
I do not weep.
I am not nervous
— or scared.

I am bones and blood
covered in a thin skin.
Empty thoughts,
no plans,
no future. 

LLH
5/26/26
3:13 PM

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

Therapy Assignment: First Attempt

They say you can smile
to trick your brain into happiness.
I try to trick myself
into believing I’m worthy.
I tell myself again, again
that I deserve more.
That I’m not lazy.
That I’ll be somebody
… someday.

But it just isn’t working.
I just don’t believe it.
I am lazy.
I am a slob.
I am a drag
to be around.
No one likes me.
No one cares.
I will die alone.

I’m tasked with writing
the good about me
and exactly who I am.
But when I look at facts
and others’ opinions
I see no good at all.

I fake my smile,
but I am still sad.

LLH
1/25/25
12:32 PM

Photo by Alex Green from Pexels: https://www.pexels.com/photo/woman-in-desperate-and-anxiety-sitting-alone-5699860/

In the Back of My Mind

It’s always times like these when I think of you
And wonder if you ever think of me
‘Cause everything’s so wrong, and I don’t belong
Living in your precious memory
‘Cause I need you
And I miss you

— A Thousand Miles, Vanessa Carlton

I spend each day
the very same way.
And you’re always there
just like before
but now only in 
the back of my mind.

I no longer have
your encouragement.
I no longer have 
your laughter.
Do you realize
how empty it is?

I’m too special
to be left in your memory,
you would tell me
if you knew how sad
I truly am.

But you aren’t here
to tell me anything.
So, I don’t believe
I’m special.
And I’m not surprised
that you left.

LLH
3/2/24
12:02 AM

https://www.pexels.com/photo/silhouette-of-woman-on-swing-during-golden-hour-289998

The Color of Sadness

She hides the light blue sadness
just behind her eyes.
Shouldn’t it be 
stormy black
with scary thunder clouds?

Instead her sadness is
a summer day’s sky,
wanting to be experienced,
waiting to be let out.

She presses her toes
in soft, fragrant grass
and stares into the bluey expanse.
She allows the light rain to fall
and hot tears to roll.

When she’s done
she feels the gold sunshine
of grace and peace
warming her hair
and her heart.

LLH
2023-08-14
1:20 PM

Photo by Scott Webb
https://www.pexels.com/photo/green-grass-field-under-white-clouds-1048039/

A poem (not mine)

The Setting Sun

The sun setting
over the Lake
is a technicolor blast
of a box of 64 crayons.

It is calming
like an Ativan
after a full-blown,
upscale panic attack.

You want to consume it
like a banana split
with extra whipped cream,
nuts, and a cherry.

But it’s quick
— fleeting
like a love affair
that’s over.

You’ll miss it
when it’s gone.

LLH
8-9-22
Written in Geneva-on-the-Lake, Ohio

Photo by Laurie Esposito Harley
Geneva-on-the-Lake
2020

Suburban America

I look out my window

and I see suburban America.

Two-story homes.

White and peach and sage.

Porches bathed in sunlight.

Mailboxes stuffed with letters

hung next to the front door.

The cars pass slowly

25 miles per hour.

People walk by

on the broken sidewalk

with baby strollers,

pet dogs on leashes,

or hand-in-hand with children.

Inside my comfortable home

I watch them go by

and wonder about their lives.

I sit here in my mansion

in the center of suburban America

and I wonder about the people

who live here, too.

LLH
6/24/2022
4:25 PM

Photo Credit: Daniel Frank at https://www.pexels.com/photo/dog-on-concrete-road-688835/

Moving On

I hasten my steps
proceeding towards
that which is new.

Momentum pushes me
as I continue onward,
toward the raw future.

Do you see me progress
as I launch myself
to face him unabated? 

Today I go forth
into tomorrow.
Shall I see you there?

LLH
01-05-22
7:00 PM
Write the Poem
Photo by Unsplash: https://unsplash.com/photos/cQ59b8chP5o

Writing

Writing has become a chore
that due to depression
has become ignored
like doing the dishes 
or sweeping the floor.

I force myself to write
or delegate the task
to hired writers
to keep myself
free.

Free from what?
Life used to be writing
and writing was life.
What is it now?

I force myself to write.
One word after another.
Word by word.
Step by step.
I’m walking back
to where I’ve never been.

I force myself to write
to learn to love my lover,
words on a page,
the process of expressing
who I am,
the process of returning to
where writing is freedom.

LLH
12/1/21
11:00 AM

Photo: @HannahOlinger https://unsplash.com/photos/8eSrC43qdro

Another Day at Work

^{Unsplash Image}

I want to dip into poetry.

Slowly, sweetly.

Instead I write 

of engagement rings and coffins.

Another day at work.

---

LLH
11-4-21
11:20 AM