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Poems By Poet Jeffrey Lee  7/27/2016 11:44:51 PM
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My Confession

I'm not going to lie. I have thought about ending it, many, many, times. But surprisingly I'm still here. No matter how bad the feelings get. No matter how bad I want to yell from the depths of my soul. No matter how bad I want to tear and gnaw the skin from my flesh. Or want to break my fist against the hard surface of the world.
I am still here. Still waking up in the middle of the night. Still lying in the darkness, listening to the wind and rain against the window pain. Still waking up from the worlds of old faces and from lives that were never meant to be. I am still here. I am still here. I am still here.
It has been years since my last confession. Or maybe more truthfully. This is my first. I am torn between hating the world, and wishing I could save it. I am still in love with her. But at the same time I know, I am not in love with her. I am in love with the fiction of her I created. The fiction of the memories, as well as my own unquenched desires. Growing and fading throughout the long stretches of years, trying to grasp old memories, moments when we were almost together. And trying to forget everything else in between. The sweaty hands, the endless hours of staring up at the clouds and blue sky, trying not to look at her, Always trying to figure out what to say, what to say, what to say. Always imagining that she might have felt the same. As we sat alone in that old school parking lot day after day.
It's funny how I always think back to those moments. When life begins to dim. And always wish that I could have gone back and said something, anything. Just so I could have seen where the path would have taken us. I know deep down it probably wouldn't have worked out. I know that she would have still found someone else. I know that we would still end up going our separate ways. And that everything would have ended up the exact same way it has now. But deep inside, I still wanted to try. I still want to try. But it's too late. Much too late. And it is something I will hold in me till the day I die. But for now, I am still here.
I am still here. Stepping through the days, making memories with friends, settling with what I have, instead of drowning in what I don't. Maybe my father was right. And I "should just be happy with what I have." Settling for second or third place, instead of reaching for the gold, only to lose it all and end with nothing. I know I can be content with third place. I know she is everything I had ever wanted in a girl. I know she is the smart choice. But still I find that she is not her.
I am still here. I am still alone, and not alone. I am still in love with my fiction of the past. I am happy, and still unhappy. I am still here, and I don't know where I am going.
Jeffrey Lee




I cast the first stone
Into calm waters
Watching the ripples
Slowly grow and fade

I stare into the waters
Reflecting myself
Wondering if this person
Is who I have become

The longer I stare
At that unforgiving sight
The more I wonder
If this is truly who I am

I don’t know if I’m me
Staring into the mirror
Or am I the reflection
Staring back at me

Is this how the world
Views this shell of me
Because this is not the person
I've imagine myself to be

Everyday, all I see
Is these two hands
And the world around me
Never caring how I appear to be

Avoiding mirrors
Wherever I go
Reflecting a person
That no one will ever know
Jeffrey Lee



The Burning Dream

My dream is a flame
Flickering through the night
Slowly melting away
The realities of my mind

My hidden desires
Cast shadows on the wall
As I watch myself live
The life I never had

The silent flame dies
As the sun begins to rise
And I am left watching
The world become real

The dream is gone
And I am here
Watching it fade
Like a wisp of smoke in the air
Jeffrey Lee



The Journal

Bold cursive silver letters
Etched onto a plain black cover
Labeling what I am
But not who I am

I sometimes just sit down
And clumsily flip through the pages
Smiling to myself on one page
And breaking my heart on the next

My friends are old photographs
Safely tucked between the pages
Guarding my scribbled down memories
From times forgetful spell

The love of my life is a bad poem
Quickly scratched out across the page
So many little messy wishes
That was never meant to be

As my eyes graze across my stained memories
I wish I could just scratch out
All of my regretful mistakes
But even then, the words would still remain

I am just a sad little character
Caught up in my own little plot
Living each page to the next
Until “The End”
Jeffrey Lee
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• nature poems
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Poems By Poet Jeffrey Lee