Making the journey
From thought to word -

Grasping at nervous jitters that
Shake my fingers like the rattle
Of an infant

And telling them as firm I can -
"STOP,"
"Don't,"
"this should be easy."

Is about as easy as mending a shattered glass whole


Speaking up.
No, no. No.
Speaking at all.
It is no less than a marathon.
And the marathon is done, eventually. I've spoken. It's fine.
(Managed a smile, too. The shaking's almost gone.)

Yet the race, it remains invisible. No trophies or medals
For this marathon.

I pray to gods I don't even know.
I wish the sweating gone
falling across my skin in waves and tumbles
It's far harder to hide when they come along

(The shaking is easily concealed.
Two smokes - nonexistent. ****.
Sorted. Done.)

But talking was never meant to be medicated

Bury this anxiety. Bury it dead and gone.

I'm finished with just getting by

The world is mine from dawn.

I yearn to belong

To feel a little less...

off.

To pull my head from the clouds
Join the others on the ground

I'll be ready some day
I won't shake or cry

We'll get along eventually,

Reality & I

She is light on water
And that bite in the air
That wakes you

It wakes you and you're alive and you can't help but breathe

And then she grins and
She hugs you
Her hands at your neck
And the breathing has stopped

And you know then
Things can't go back

To before
It was so ******* simple

A hug was just a hug and a kiss was nothing more

Now there's fire in your veins when she walks through the door