She keeps songs
locked away in boxes
like secrets.
She will take them out
like postcards
to help her remember
the feeling of
a different time,
a different person
by her side.
She likes the one
that makes her
eyes close
to see the lights.
She smiles at
the one that  
makes her stand
up on tiptoes,
the one that
helps her forget
she doesn’t know
what to do
with her hands.

The tune
will carry her.

Like it did
the times when
voices broke
like a heart.
When instruments’ strings
would snap
and hurt.

Living like a shadow
Being the odd one out
Remarkable yet unremembered
Floating in my daydreams
Fighting off reality
Forgetting my priorities
Getting carried away
By life's necessities
And blending into the crowd
At the oddest moments
When sticking out is beneficial

Let me see
If this "love" thing
Exists.

My brain says no
My heart says please
And my soul says

wait and see

my one wish is
to find someone
who sees the world
as beautiful as i do
with their mouth
preaching poetic beauty
as i have once done
to all the boys
i have loved

My Mind the prison.
My Heart and Soul prisoner.

The chains,
Anxiety and Depression.

My Body the canvas,
Mindful of my Oppression.

but last night—
after two years,
you smiled to me,
waved your hands,
and we both laughed
to each other's stories

suddenly,
the light turns darker—

you took my hand,
slowly lifted it up
right above my head,
make movements
as if you wanted me to spin
as if we were dancing—

and we danced all night,
somewhere only in my dreams.