I sit in a dark room digging up old memories that I had thought were forever in the grave.
Thai food and coffee surrounds me and in a quick minute I have never felt lonelier then I do now.

I watch old shows we used to make fun of and write stories of love that has never and most likely will never happen for me.
My thoughts are ancient memories like the dinosaurs or the Pyramids- wonders and mysteries I’ll never truly solve.

As the light from the tv shines over me, and I cuddle up with a glass of wine- I truly wonder if I’ll ever make it past this haunting nostalgia....
or will I forever be stuck to endure the ghosts and nightmares of a life that never was and probably never will be.

Maybe it was the sleepy way your voice would read me to sleep each night but I was pretty sure I had never known love until then.

It could have been the way you brought me hot chocolate with whipped cream when I was sad because you know those little things mean everything.

And I’m not sure really when it began but I know that once I looked into those eyes I felt my whole world tilt and turn.

I’ve spent my whole life trying to find words to explain love and how it feels.

Little did I know the words were already written they were just being read by the wrong narrator for my story.

Maybe it was the hazy Sunday morning bliss or the cicadas screaming their annoying lullaby but I found myself drawn to the woods.
Streams of blue and green water and muddy paths that lead me back to sanity every time I come through.

My past has kept me locked in city streets with too many people and too many memories.
My present holds a sympathetic and nostalgic view for the things I love but also a craving for something vast and beyond.

As for my future if they ask me today I might just head to the woods and never leave.
I’ll become one with the moss on the trees and the mushrooms in the ground.
I’ll be the composure for the cicadas and the paint for the sunsets and sunrises.

Tonight we will dream  of the right path to the New York life and the city dreams but tomorrow we’ll find the left path holds the cure to the soul in the trees.

I wasn’t just another museum tour you had on your list.
You don’t get to come through here with your bright words and advanced vocabulary telling me how things should have been and where we should be.
You don’t get to come in and destroy my artwork as if I didn’t spend my whole life creating it from the ground up.

I am celestial.
I am the 8th wonder of the world.
I am a temple of power and femininity that your mind will never understand.

I wasn’t just a solar system you thought you had the right to explore.
You don’t get to set up camp and experiment and write stories about me as if I wasn’t real.
You don’t get to see the light and the stars of mind and then use them for some ultimate power move.

I am a ******* privilege.
I am a ******* planet.
I am a ******* black hole of love and destruction that you shouldn’t have messed with.

I wasn’t some church you thought you come to and atone and be forgiven for your sins just because you said some prayers.
You don’t get to come in here and demand forgiveness when you don’t deserve it.
You don’t get to come in here and disrespect all entities and gods and goddesses just because you don’t believe in a higher power.

I am a goddess.
I am my own deity.
I am a power of worship and peace that your heart will never understand.

I am so much more then the girl to a man with such a simple mind.