i imagine little pieces of you
clinging to my shirt,
like dandelion seeds,
when you kiss me.

but you are much, much more than a mere ****.
you're a vivid, radiant flower in a garden of wilting stems.

and every time you smile at me
i swear,
something in me grows again.

perhaps you're the sunshine
that nourishes my growth.
perhaps you're the rain
that makes my cloudy days worthwhile.
and more than that,
you're the earth that keeps me here.
you're the dandelion that grows in my garden.

my fingers touch the piano
and gingerly the shadows rest on
its ivory white keys.
inhale, and my hands rise to
hover gently above the keys,
then exhale, and they nudge into
the body of the piano,
ringing five notes at a time.
i lift and push with more force,
and the sound sharpens,
cutting through the air,
through the background noise of the tv in the other room,
past the laughter of two boys playing video games,
beyond the quiet murmurs of the voices in my head.

redemption.
i'm working towards it.
for my teacher, whom believes i will soon
catch up to everybody else.
for my fellow musicians, surpassing me in experience
but standing beside me regardless.
for my instructors, whom led me to be the musician
i am today and will be tomorrow.
for my friends, whom cheer me on and
always will, whether i be smiling or not.

and for myself.
because i've had to prove to myself
i am capable of doing this.
that proof lies in my fingers,
in my mind,
and in my determination.
and because even now, i'm still
doubting myself here and there.
but i am not incompetent.
i am not incompetent.

i was never incompetent.

incompetent.
the music in front of me blurred slightly
and my fingers curled above the piano keys.
the room filled with sounds like a rainbow after the rain.
i became that rain in the room,
and wondered what kind of light
should shine through my clouds,
if any.

ghosts have feelings too
the ones that crawl over the windows at night,
the ones that live under your bed and in dusty corners,
the ones that fester in your open wounds, ****** or hidden,
the ones that you call your deepest, darkest secrets

We only met for half a minute
But that time was precious.
It filled me with
Surprise, to be honest.
But it left me with
New confidence, regardless of how small it was,
And a lot of questions
I have yet to answer about myself.

Who am i?
Who am i creating out of myself?
And is that person the kind to be
Strong enough to be approached?
And,
What can i do on my own,
Before i think of what i can do in a pair...

I thought a lot.
And that's what that half minute has given me.
A lot of new things to think about.
And i'm grateful for that.

I drank a cup of coffee
But that's not enough to
Dispel this drowsiness
I live in.
I drank a cup of coffee
To deal with today;
The only way i know
To deal with every day.
I drank
A cup of coffee,
But i could bathe in
A pool of caffeine and
Run my fingers against the current
Of a river of it and
I would leave
With eyes heavier than before.

I,
I think coffee,
Is not going to help anymore.
I think,
Something inside me is
Whirling doubts about me
More snug than is comfortable.
And,
This brew
Doesnt even taste sweet,
Or particularly bitter.
It's very bland.
And i prefer to leave it unfinished
Than empty.

I dont remember how i got here.
Loosely plastered together like an
Irreversibly shattered glass vase.
Shards of myself i leave to the wind.
Take me far, far away.
Its better, this way.