for the poets
merry christmas/happy new year/&welcome. from my mind to yours.
poems for you, stranger
how vulnerable it is to share words you strung together. words you threaded and stitched and sewed so intently with nothing but your own mind. words that came so quickly to you at 2:27am that you jerked awake because your brain was screaming at you to WRITE THEM DOWN before sleep steals them again.
I feel like a child, scribbling away at the kitchen table. a child who let childhood pass because of a desperation to turn to their mother with something good enough to show. but as time stretches on, the product must be better. greater. more innovative. more impressive.
it feels as though…
each time I think I have something, something that just might be worth a few silent seconds of someone else’s time, I come across a better something.
I read. incessantly. Dickens, Milton, Plath, Whitman, Eliot, Keats, Poe, Oliver.
it is easy to decide you aren’t good enough. to reach and reach and reach higher. but then one day—
you look up and realize that is all you have done. reached.
so this is me. no longer reaching, just unapologetically still. this is what I have to offer you, stranger. I hope it is worth your gaze. but most of all, I hope it helps you to stop reaching too.
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Romeo & Juliet
I feel the ghost of you
Here on this rooftop
Dancing with me
Above the city lights
Sitting on this ledge with me
Phantom arm around my shoulders
Until I muster up the courage
To jump.
and I know you are waiting for me, dear
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my imagination is far greater than this world.
so large, it floods into places that only exist
in my mind.
it leaks into new worlds,
seeping into new dimensions,
spreading
never
ceasing.
attempting to satisfy an insatiable desire for what cannot be,
what never was.
why was I made this way?
why am I dissatisfied with this life?
I have what I need,
I wish to be,
satiable.
I feel selfish that I am not.
I want to grow up
and grow out
of this
but do I?
the cost,
is it worth it?
to lose my imagination,
to become satiable,
I would have to lose a part of myself.
and I wonder,
who will I become?
because without the worlds I discover
in my head,
without the adventures I take
in my dreams,
what will fill that room
in my head?
of lives I have lived
through words on pages,
people I have loved
existing only there,
in
my
head.
Imagination.
it is my curse,
but I would never trade it nor lose it because
it is my favorite piece of myself.
________________________________
A Haiku For My Family
how dear they love me
how sweetly they give to me
me, of little thanks
________________________________
i want to live alone
in a cozy home
in the snowy mountains.
i will bake cinnamon rolls
and
light tall candles on the kitchen table by the window.
i will watch the wax drip down, down..
as the light flickers
exposing the shadows that hide in the corners of the room.
until a candle tips.
a flame runs up, up, up the curtain and—
devours the wooden walls
wooden ceilings
wooden floors
wooden stairs
a house built to fall.
my cozy alone home
burned to the ground.
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This was beautiful. Thanks for sharing .
Beautiful 💕