I flip through my notebook
of empty pages,
and I can imagine
the way they would
full of color
my color,
but I am afraid to ruin one page.
So I just flip through my notebook
of empty pages.

It’s another late night
with these thoughts in my head,
with a cup of coffee I probably shouldn’t had,
with these dreams I’m squeezing, trying to not let ‘em go.

Am I being
        too picky—
Should I settle
       for what I know?

But I was taught
         to never settle,
For that will lead
        only to regret.

I open my mouth
wrestling the words off my tongue
like they are passengers
that refuse to walk their plank.
and when I finally think I’ve pushed
them
off
into the storming sea should they go—
dissolved by the darkness of the waves
and the crescendo of the foam.
but nothing dares stumble out in the land between my lips,
instead the passengers find themselves
to the vacuum of hopelessness
that awaits it.