becoming self aware
All this time spent at home, only one constant has remained. This unsettling feeling never left me. Like I was locked in a cage. At first I figured, cabin fever. No big deal. Completely normal. But with every passing day I’d be filtering through my thoughts, hesitant, and unsure why. Finally I had to ask myself, “what am I so afraid to see?”
The days where I’d feel most unwilling to stay in are the days I tried to dig in the hardest. To really open my eyes. As I looked back over my life I realized there’s never been a time when I wasn’t running. That I was truly disturbed by sitting in place. How can that be?
When I stared at my reflection I saw that I wasn’t looking in a mirror, but a window, and outside was unfamiliar scenery.
I wasn’t locked in a cage. I’d been running so fiercely away from my problems that I’d started to trek upwards, and had somehow reached the top of the steep mountain that is denial and avoidance, and made a home here.
All this time spent giving my all to other people, to materialistic things, to arbitrary experiences, where had it gotten me?
From the peak you’d expect to look down and see something breathtaking: a city skyline, the beauty of nature around you, something. My view was empty.
Through the clouds I could see other people atop their successes, surrounded by the dreams they turned into reality, and something else hit me. What is my dream?
I’ve spent so long neglecting myself that I haven’t made any plans. I’ve had no idea where I was going. I’ve just been running from one distraction to the next, acting off pure adrenaline and blind instinct for so long I’d abandoned the trails and left all of my supplies behind.
Then the most gut-wrenching realization of them all: I’d have to backtrack all the way down and start over. No progress made, only time wasted.
The journey down is so much scarier than going up. All this time unbeknownst to me, my demons had actually been hiding behind the trees, lurking, rather than getting lost in them. The thought of staying in place, in the comfort of what was easy had occurred to me, but they’d have caught up eventually. So to avoid the avalanche of letting them find and devour me, I decided it’s time to take control and face them. The only hope I have is that by the time I get to the bottom, I’ll have been able to figure out where to go from there. And that at least when I get there, the only way to go is up.
Mar 4, 2021
Mar 4, 2021 at 1:29 AM UTC
I begin to feel at ease watching the golden stream fill the glass sitting in front of me. When it’s empty I’ll crawl into bed hoping to avoid another dream of you. For the moment your smile is no longer stained into my memory. The taste of your kiss burned away by the sting of the whiskey. I slept better with you next to me, but until I forget how that felt, the bottle will have to do.
Mar 4, 2021
Mar 4, 2021 at 12:46 AM UTC
Through the passing of time I found a way to make the darkness behind his eyes shine like the morning sun
You’d think it would be a relief to feel the warmth of them
How strange that what is supposed to be cathartic, isn't
Steady voice and an enticing smile, his requests used to be passionate, innocent
Suddenly those eyes that used to start a fire in me grow cold and I am going with them
My fingers race across the keys to try and find the words before the fantasy fades and reality confronts me
Why can't I feel the rain on my skin without trying to put myself to blame for it
The world around me returns vividly
The nightmare is what I’m living
My palms moistened by tears because the hands that used to hold them fell
They’re a clenched fist now
I had romanticized every red flag
All his potential I created in my head
Oh the beauty of poetry
It could be, it should’ve been
But it never is, is it?
Mar 4, 2021
Mar 4, 2021 at 12:18 AM UTC
I caught you inside her and you said you were trying to fill the void.
I asked, "hers, or yours?"
Mar 27, 2018
Mar 27, 2018 at 3:43 AM UTC
Your lips
Were the first thing I noticed
Gently parted
Breathing in and out
Oh to be your words
Conceived within your mind
Born upon your lips
Poetry.
Your lips are ******* poetry.
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 3:27 AM UTC
There is nothing here for me save for the trail of broken hearts that drag behind my feet
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 2:10 AM UTC
"Don't move". She sits behind the stand. She's become a shadow, but the light is showing her eyes above the canvas, looking at him, paintbrush in hand.
He stands there, eyes full of wonder and curiosity, smiling but not too broadly, so as to allow her to paint his natural grace. They are alone in the studio, but this picture is captured in its frame.
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 1:46 AM UTC
The ticking of the clock grows exponentially louder
and aligns perfectly with the throbbing inside my head
He turns and leaves me alone
yet again
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 1:36 AM UTC
You say you're not a writer
Yet your words wrap their silken arms around me
and caress me as gently as you do.
They fall unto me like the sunset over the ocean;
slowly, vibrant, mesmerizingly.
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 1:33 AM UTC
He said to me
You are the ocean
90 percent of you undiscovered
Untouched & unreachable
And I want to drown in your waters
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 1:30 AM UTC