Christmas In The City

The City at Christmastime.
The lights.
The winter chill in the air.
The winter village at Bryant Park,
full of crafters and buyers
hoping to find the perfect gift.
Lights strung from booth to booth.
The village lit up the night.
Ice skaters skating
around the rink near the tree.
The hustle and bustle of the people walking down the street.

– C.A. Sullivan

Falling Leaves

As a child I remember being outside in fall. 
I stood in the open field, surrounded by a fence of trees. 
The wind blew hard and steady, 
pulling the orange, red and brown leaves from their branches 
and into the air like snow. 
I spun around in circles, arms out,
head turned up towards the sky,
dancing in the leaf rain. 
They fell so beautifully and slowly, 
I didn’t want it to end. 
That magical moment when the world stopped 
and only I existed in it.

- C.A. Sullivan


I’ve always felt like I was here to do more.
Have a greater purpose.
When life changes,
I think here it is,
This is my purpose.
But as time passes,
It becomes stale again,
I become restless.
I find myself unhappy again
and wanting to move on.
Why is nothing good enough?
Is it me?
Or am I not on the right path.
And this is my body’s way of telling me.
How do I find my path?

– C.A. Sullivan


I feel so disconnected
The days where I felt intertwined
With the universe and all it’s inhabitants
That magic surging through me
And out my fingertips
Into everything I touch
Has passed
That energy that makes me feel so alive
Is dead
It never seems to last for long when it comes
I beg it to stay but it slowly slips away
Into the night leaving just as quietly as is came

– C.A. Sullivan


I feel deeply
I feel others pain
As if it were my own
It puts me in a position to
Empathize with people
In a world that’s so insensitive
I take on their feelings
They become part of me
Almost as if hoping that would take some of their pain away
But the cost on my own mental health
Is draining
How do you recharge when
Caring so deeply for others
Sucks the very breath
From your lungs
The beats from your heart
The life from your soul
How do you find balance
Empathy is my gift
And my curse

– C.A. Sullivan

The Cottage

The cottage stood all alone,
Collecting dust and leaves.
Weathered by the elements,
Forgotten and left behind.
The air here used to be warm,
Bursting with the scent of vanilla,
Sweet like cinnamon sugar,
Sparkling with magic.
Now all that fills its rooms,
Is the sting of heartbreak,
Of a love long lost.
It’s despair whispers
through the empty rooms,
Cutting through the air,
Like the sharp edge of a knife,
Landing on the hearts of its victims.
The doors close,
Trapping me inside.
Forever lost.

– C.A. Sullivan

Writer’s Block

These blank pages intimidate me.
Why can’t I write on them?
I touch the pages
Turn on some music
Light a candle
In hopes it will inspire me
To write something profound
But the empty page
Only stares back at me
I go weeks without writing
And when I finally can put words to the page
There aren’t many of them
My dream is to write a book
But at this rate
It will be merely be a collection
Of random thoughts
Captured throughout my life
Mostly in times of pain or struggle
Because those are the times
My feelings are strongest
Maybe it’s not that I’m no good at writing,
It’s that I don’t put enough time into making it something more.

– C.A. Sullivan