More Berkeley Revival Poems

Life without love feels good.

It feels real,

because what is love?

Love is the blue box I'm writing this poem in,

is it really real?

Where does it exist?

Life without a best friend feels good.

It feels like home,

a beautiful gray day to wake up to alone.

I've got identity and focus,

I've got power in droves,

and I had it before we braved this ocean,

during the storm that sank it all,

and you can be damned sure I'll be having it tomorrow.

Maybe no one understands the simpleness of silence like I do.

Maybe no one understands the beauty of rain.

Maybe no one understands a cold winter morning.

Maybe no one sees the sweetness of each day... that will die.

I appreciate being able to wake at eight

and look out the window

at the hillside

I had never known would be there.

I appreciate being able to say in my head

girl, at least you left

the places you thought would be


I appreciate the cold air and spinning head.

If I didn't take them for myself,

I might be dead.

Love makes you blissful, and then renders you



too much emotion and red.

My power is the power that exists in my hand,

not in our chemistry,

or in a whisper,

or in the things we can never touch.

My power is my power,

and I control it.

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