she carefully pressed her lips together
so tight she couldn’t speak

this way her thoughts wouldn’t slip
out
and expose her

My body feels numb
You make it hard to breathe
I hold my breath so I can listen to your body
I hear it crying out my name
With every gentle motion
The passion in my soul burns higher
The flames glow brighter
Don't quit
Keep feeding the fire

When I write,
It is like I am on an adventure,
When I am happy I am drifting down a lazy river,
When I am full of anger I am raging down dangerous rapids,
Crashing into the jagged rocks of my anguish and anxiety
Until finally I reach the river bank and I can rest.

It is like I am scaling Mount Everest,
Each level of creativity is another 100 metres into the sky
Until finally my imagination is at the peak
And my freedom is limitless,
stretching across to the farthest reaches of the horizon

It is like skydiving,
A rush of adrenaline as I plummet towards the ground,
Completely weightless and my mind is racing
Like the air that brushes over my skin
Until I pull the cord and release the parachute,
Safely land on my feet
With a new idea.

It is like a drug,
I am on an all time high,
Hallucinations of what could be,
How something that is far from tangible
Becomes existential,
Then during the come down
I make that dream a reality.

When I write, I feel like myself,
There are too many possibilities
That are still left unmarked on the map of written art.

Writing...
writing...
writing...
It's so  hard to stop the pen...
I put it down, blink just once
Then pick it up again.

Writing...
writing....
writing....
Has complete control over me...
Can't you see what I am doing?
"I'm writing...let me be!"

Writing
writing
writing.....
Writing's what we do.
Won't you a write a poem for me?
And I'll write one for you?

If you were a puzzle,
I'd take you apart
and carefully analyze each piece.
It'd be a challenge to learn every part,
how they fit in together, and why,
a fun little game of you.
I'd begin to know the real you.
The mystery part in which i had no clue
Everything you hide, i'd find
But while I was playing this game,
forgive me if I maybe-
just maybe-
slip a piece into my pocket
(it was an accident I swear),
so that whenever you're being put back together,
you wouldn't be whole without me.

I like crying
Because I'm not allowed to
But since I'm not allowed
I
Can't.

Since you said
That crying isn't good
I physically can't do it
Even when  need to
Even when I have to
Even when I want to

And when I do
I burst
Every feeling that was trapped
Explodes in rage
And they come out all at once

I don't try to hide the pain
Trust me
I want to let it out
I like the feeling
Of drowning in my own thoughts

When I was a child
I sat in my closet
And wrote in the diary
As each word was written
I flew farther and farther away

At that point
I only wrote when I cried
So I could let my tears
Fall on the pages
To 'prove' my sadness

I liked-
rephrase.
I like being sad
It could be because
It reminds me that I'm still alive

I still picture her
When she came in
She dragged me out of the closet
And sat me on my bed
My uncomfortable bed

She snatched my book
Skimmed through the pages
And pointed at the smudges
They messed up the words
Plus they were circled with black ink

So I gave a simple answer
"Those are my tears"
I glanced at my book
In her clammy hands
"I circled them to remember the pain"

Hugs
Are supposed to be nice, right?
Well I hated her hugs
They were rare
But I didn't miss them anyway

She softly said
"Aweee"
Then walked out
So I went back into my closet
Where I can sit in darkness

She left my diary on a shelf
And I haven't touched it since
But I always remember the circled tears
And when she sat in awe
Adoring my sadness

She made me believe,
That sadness is loved.