Sure I liked the lanterns,
Sure the river looked pretty,
But what I'll remember most is the people,
That lit corners of my heart
I'd forgotten existed.

My mind thought it was dead
for five long years
living a life under clouds of medication
raining blues on my forehead
I did not know what it meant
to be awake
I only knew what it meant
to not want to die
I look in the mirror and see surviving
as if survivor is my only worth
bleeding thick black lines
onto paper so thin
it disintegrates as I write
my bones are awed at the thought
that maybe it didn’t need to be this way
smoking lungs deciding whether to
keep putting out the fire
or let my body burn
burn with my own inspiration
love that buried itself in my ribcage
and made itself a prison
worried about the hurt that would
crush my hands to powder
like it did before I learned
how to silence my mind,
it is deciding whether to be broken
or swimming in my own head
learning to think again
against my body’s wishes
it’s being okay or creative
finding light
finding life
or finding nothing in return

I think I watched the moon more than the road tonight.
I suppose I can’t blame the stars for being
so distracting.
My mind tends to wander and all I can
do is beg the constellations to kindly weave
themselves between my fingers and help
guide the steering wheel.
I need a few moments to gather myself and
tuck these intruding thoughts back in their
places- now is not the time.

are my poems boring?
are they monotone?
are you able to
imagine what’s happening
in your head?
they must be very boring,
i’m sorry.
they share no colors,
i’m sorry for gifting you
a dull world.  
if you can imagine the poem in your head,
i’ve done well, haven’t i?
they’ve become monotone, haven’t they?
i used to write happy
nature haikus.
now what?
they’re just useless feelings