I love poetry
I love reading poetry
And the more I read the more I see the same themes
The same thoughts
The same feels...
And for a brief moment of weakness I feel like a fraud
Is it for naught
If we're all saying the same things?
Using the same bowl of words and rearranging them with different cadence and meter?
Then almost immediately I see the beauty.
I see the human experience.
And how we're all the same.
Acting and reacting within the scope of only so many emotions
My poem doesnt have to be the first to say it
I write it as a humble entry to this shared thought.
My signature in agreement.
Added proof that all these meticulously organized words have been offered earnestly and painted beautifully for all our sakes

I might dare to paint love one day.
Or draw it. I haven't played around with paint much.
But when I imagine it put to paper its painted so perhaps that's the better medium?
Something about the brush strokes perhaps? Those little tiny lines but all having their own existence.
Their own job in being part of the final picture.
love is usually shrouded in reds and pinks and whites.
But that's not what I see.

When I close my eyes and try to imagine those feelings taking shape
Putting on clothes to present itself to the world

I see dark blue hues and sort of a glitter all over a black background
and the glitter isnt regular glitter but the glitter of the stars late at night out in the country when they blanket the sky.
And theres purplish colors ranging from the deepest purple to tiny streaks of the lightest pinks, and greys and whites and golds and earthy greens.

Every color that's rich and deep.

and theres this constant, ethereal movement. Like a dream.

Slow like the clouds floating lazily across the sky on an easy day. And theres a small white gradient around the edges to sort of make it glow...

I'm beginning to think love looks like a far away planet?

Ominous and beautiful
And it's corny, but I feel like we're our own little world.

Please.
Could u find it in your heart
To give me back all those vulnerable moments?
Because I feel so stupid now
I feel stupid for going against every fiber of my being and exposing myself
For daring to say those things that come from a place so deep in my heart that it terrifies me.
Knowing that when they rise to the surface
When they escape the warmth of my chest and meet the warmth of the sun they become real
They become present
And tangible
And I need you to give them back because I regret it now
Because I dared to trust and you did exactly what I expected
Because I spent my life building walls and was so well protected
But I leapt
I dared to love fully and relentlessly
And I was all in so I put it in ink.
I put it in air
I put it in touch
I cemented it in time and space.
And I regret it.
I don't regret the relentless love but I regret letting it see the surface
I regret letting you see all those lisa Frank feelings.
So colorful and magical and childlike
And I'm embarrassed.
Cause in the end you didnt deserve it
But now it's yours
And for the rest of your life you have the privilege of those memories that were birthed from a trust you betrayed
You'll get to look back and see how much I loved you
How hard I loved you
And I'll always see how it was too much
I'll always be mad that I went all in
Yet it wasn't enough for you to go all in for me
Staggering inequity
Now how will I dare to trust again?
How will I not temper the reckless abandon that makes it so exciting?
Love Is easy,
But taking that love. Those words. Those memories
and giving it matter
Depth
Sound
Touch
Color
That's a gift. It's the purest art.
So please just give them back so I can protect it better next time.
I think
Next time I'll just keep love in my heart.

I want to believe I haven't lost it
That THING
That thing that makes me feel like
im really doing something
Lile these aren't just words thrown together
Or intended to rhyme
Or too deliberately "deep"
But that thing that once you're done
You're proud. But not too proud.
It stands alone
Yet you always feel it's just a little unfinished.
But you dare not touch it.

I want to believe I still have that thing that's real
That I haven't let time and hardship harden a gift that was born in me once upon a time when I thought the world was a different place

A time that has begun to feel like someone else owned those thoughts
Lived the feelings that bore those inspirations
When those words came from the what ifs
And hubris
I want to believe that thing is still there
And still precious.
And while today it knows what life has carved me into
That it too was being carved
And can place these words together
In such a way that I know it's true
And its mine

Romantic Love has always been ironically, over romanticized for me.
It just appeared to be too much
Too irrational
Too cartoonishly blissful
This could be from a life of witnessing too much romantic hurt
Too much of the flip side of what romantic love could do.
The harm.
The loss of trust
All the broken pieces
So I never felt it was something worth seeking
It was cute
It was good for movies
But now I guess I get it
Love songs have a bit of a deeper meaning now
And I get the bliss.

This is my brain on drugs
This is my brain in love

The high is so good
To feel understood
To feel so secure by your touch

When I wake up and thank Jesus for another day
I feel guilty, as I wrestle
to keep thoughts of you at bay.

Tho I always win
You're my whiskey, my gin

And I reach for you after I pray.