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I find it interesting how every letter
that inks from pen to paper
knows exactly what it stands for
and successfully represents
as an individual.
continually has the humility
to serve with others to achieve a high purpose
much bigger than themselves.
If only we could say the same about the writer.
I wonder in a hundred years
What people will say of Beverly Hills
Will they speak of it like the Romans
or Hollywood in it's hayday?
or will they speak at all
Will it all just fade away.
Will the dresses be remembered
and lunches skipped be praised?
The ones that do not lift a finger
Only eyebrows they raise
behind their shades.
I wish to be the Pac Man to your soul;
eating away all of the small daily problems on your heart,
and taking care of the big ones too.
I want to turn the ever-present dangers in your life
To ghosts of the past,
and chase those away as long as I can
So that you might see the
fruits of the spirit hidden away at the center of your being
without the distraction
of the fear
and pain
that once surrounded it.
And when it's all cleared,
and you see yourself as I always have
I want to dive deeper
and begin again.
Let's start our life. Let's go buy little home in a small town with a white picket fence and front porch swing. Let's have neighbors that only know me by your last name. You can be the town policeman, and handyman on the weekends and I can write for the newspaper, and make poetry about you. We'll spend our days loving each other, making big jars of sweet tea, trying to cook with fresh fruits and vegetables from our garden out back and going to the one Dairy Queen in town when we fail miserably. Let's laugh at our mistakes over chocolate dipped cones. Let's melt away afternoons dancing barefoot through our kitchen, and evenings camping in our backyard. Let's paint the house blue, and then repaint it because of how many times it led to making love on an empty bedroom floor. Let's buy vanilla scented candles from the grandmotherly figure up the road. Let's do it. You and me. And one day, I will be in the kitchen making a sandwich in one of your sweatshirts, and I'll come into the room to find you sitting on the floor. I won't ask, but give a half laugh and slide down beside you, quietly, so as not to break the daze you're in, and I'll join whatever world you've gone into. As we sit in silence, you can hear the soft pitter of rain on our roof. We'll look at each other with peace, and I'll mirror the smile you're beginning to show, because we know. We have it. You will grab me and spin me around until we collapse and laugh in sheer giddiness. We'll eat our sandwiches right there on the floor and fall into an afternoon nap. And it will all truly be, alright. Can you imagine living in that high of a frequency, in blissful euphoria with the love of you and your soulmate that God himself put in you, surrounding you wholly?
I've formed this gun from the pains of my past
It's loaded with fear,
There is no safety.
I draw at first sign of danger,
and you terrify me.
Finger on the trigger
You kiss the barrel
The bullet turns to a petal
and there is growth
Where I've only seen destruction.
I wear matching socks
On my feet
Ending at the ankle
Not at the knee
Where they used to be.
Laundry clean
All dishes sparkling
My apartments pristine
My car windshield bug-free
Not a single fast food wrapper
In the passenger seat
and my gas gauge never falls below
Half empty.
I no longer find enjoyment in
My life mirroring a circus
Everything has a place
And is fully fulfilling its purpose.
Most take my orderliness
As ambitiousness
A testament to
My diligence
When it's simply a need
For my life and mind to be
An antithesis.
I fear I will float away
from swallowing
thought bubbles
trying to escape
out of my mouth
on the wave
of deep breathes
being with you
make me take.
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