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It's so easy not to be yourself
Just lock the real you in the closet with the lights turned off
Keep a monster in there
To keep him company
Scare the **** out of him
To leave him spineless; then,
Drink the paints dry
And watch the colours of the rainbow change
..
#identity
#nameless
emerald linen edged with jade
a book titled with my name

and it’s heavy.

i flip through the pages
but they’re blank.

or maybe they’re written
in a way i cannot see

or maybe it was never written at all.

or maybe it’s a reflection,
an empty book, an empty me.

& maybe I’ll write it someday.
I had the pleasure of working with Boi again! This time I shared my poem and he gave me some awesome ideas for adding more concrete images into the poem. If you'd like to check out Boi's awesome work, you can find it here: https://hellopoetry.com/swoopingevil/

Thank you, Boi!

Original (11/19):

a book with my name on it.
i flip through the pages.

but they're blank

or maybe i just can't read them
or maybe it was never written
and maybe i'll write it one day.
sometimes my
voice escapes me

my chest so tight
like being stabbed with a knife

throat dry
heart racing
breath quickens

for what reason?
NaPoWriMo day 4 - 040419
on the horizon
pastel clouds float
swirled by the breeze

underneath them
in awe of their color,
i only feel blue.
I challenged myself to use the words blue, breeze, and horizon or skyline.

You can try, too!
i always have
the urge to run.

but what is it like
to be a tree?

to be confident enough
to root yourself
and grow with
wild abandonment,
being unapologetically
you?

i'm still running,
but i wish i knew.
If love was forever
Why did you part

If love was loyalty
Why did you seek others

If love was vowed
Why did you break it

If it was meant to be,
Why was it not meant for love?
Wedding blues of a child of divorce
You've gotten silent
You don't reply anymore

What could lead to hours of conversation
Ends with just a sentence or two

Just because you found someone new
Does that mean you'd just leave the past behind
I might as well be talking to a brick wall
Into my heart an air that kills
From yon far country blows:
What are those blue remembered hills,
What spires, what farms are those?

That is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plain,
The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again.
it’s breaking my heart
listening to the silence
of unfulfilled love
when words are targets
the truth remains unspoken
and progress will stall
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