Here
Is where I'm safe,
Writing
always safer,
Somehow my pen can’t,
stutter as my lips do,
Words get stuck in throats,
But never fingertips

Curses
instead of cursive,
We won’t stumble
across paper,
We save that for our
Unfolded rugs,
Here we won’t
fall off the edges,
Because even if we do
It has elegance,
Balance idly follows poise

That’s why we have
our guides,
Solid trails of blue lines
Form our foundation,
Making definite and clear,
our ideas, thoughts,
         selves

Reading this, you can't tell I’m crying,
   am i?
Reading this you can't tell me I’m wrong,
          how can words be wrong?


Thoughts can
we catch them,
Like thieves in the night
Slipping
In between the cracks,
green eyed warriors with broken smiles,
            broken promises

Thoughts becoming our subconscious bombs
underground, unheard,
We walk into no man’s land
without a cover,
stepping,
          testing our grounds,
       waiting for the blasts

So we write about our past,
romanticized
Our future,
anticipated


We write ourselves a map
because this time we’ll figure it out,
this time,
the words will make sense
One day

Words will whisper,
tell us what we might not know,
            what we might not understand
Tell us our present
Can it be returned?

Writing makes things clear
our own words cannot hide the truth

Writing is real, raw, ridged
forever undisguised,

It can be whatever it wants
whatever we might need it to be,
Either a "yours truly",
       or a "yours sincerely"
or maybe it was never really ours
Maybe it ends in
               "best regards…"

Through written words alone
we can understand ourselves,
Open up closed doors,
heal the cracks left behind,
By our green eyed monsters
that we never seem to find

Emoting becomes a cure all,
        end all,
        of time,
        of silent sufferings

We’re all born blind
we don’t see what we don’t understand,
what we never want to have to understand
Until we write it down
unhinge

We stare into broken mirrors
the reflection of our ideas, opinions,
Unable to detect the fractions of light
or the scars we like to keep covered

Words,
an honest to god friend
Guiding,
through those blue lines
the hidden crooked valleys
magnified by our storms
our moments

All the in-between white spaces
missing pieces
we look to fill with black,
Making us finally learn to analyze
to ask ourselves
About those white li(n)es

Opening ourselves,
Trusting our words,

to the unknown

I’m a different woman
I pride myself on it
Sometimes masking
Insecurity
I tend to take things
Seriously
Literally
I use that word
Extensively
I try to see others
Moralities
Yet talk on top of peoples
Words
The things I jumble in real life
But on paper
They come to life
My mother has too kind a heart
My fathers pride a work of art
I am both of them
And none of them
Neither my brothers alike
Both two tend to fight
I take flight
I travel in converse
Unlike my family
Grounded by roots
By People
I am grounded by nothing
I am a bird
Sometimes I will fall
But I will always
Be there to catch myself

my thoughts tremble at a name
a name at which i've learned to never speak of
if i did speak of such a name
i'm sure it would still taste just as sweet
but ironically enough i've never really liked sweet things
like a strawberry
something about strawberries
my mom always seems to buy them
yet they only rot away in our fruit bowl
i know them too good to be true
to bruise easy at a light touch
and their red can only be described as a false exuberance
because they're only actually good through one season
which leaves me wondering
it's a shame to people who would go through all that labour
to enjoy something so uncontrollably sweet
for such a short amount of time

my window has always seemed to face towards the streets

i always try to have a birds eye view of things

yet my mentality is shaped to fit between a window sill

somewhere between what i can do and what i will

"eyes see different shades" someone had once said

well lately I've been seeing through different shades of red

i'd first wanted to say blue but that seemed rather morbid

i think red means something more than what life has in store for us

i'm seeing perspective but i'll be held back by my own

and the sun is a gold i'll never truly hold

if i stare too long to catch it i could go severely blind

i guess that's the parallel to seeing through someone else's eyes

& the problem with you
is your inner confliction
and your dire need
to leave without listen

but you need to realize
you never have to be tall
regardless physically
there's nothing wrong
with being small

not all art
has to go down in history
nor will all humans
but here we are
glistening

though you might not make it big
your ambition and strive
will give love a ring
because the art thats not famous
is still known by few
and appreciated by many
in all that it represents
all you can do

all the lives you touch
all the people that will interpret you
you're not a famous painting because
i’m the only viewer
smart enough
to have fallen in love with you