Fear wakes you up.
My arms scrape the branches as I climb.
I feel the dry earth beneath my feet.
Never more excited, never more afraid.

The blossoms dance down,
Pink,
And I can feel the heat as I tremble,
Imagining the jump.

The ravens taunt me-
They say I won’t do it.
Maybe I won’t.
But then I would miss the joy of falling.

My wild, blonde curls
Get snagged in the trees- ow!
It will be worth it.
I remind myself it will.

Little critters squeal at me,
Some in encouragement, some not.
I reach for the comfort of my fluffy pillow,
Who isn’t there.

I’ve reached the top.
I can touch the sky.
Violet, blue, yellow, orange.
The perfect mix.

I’ve forgotten my fear, my worries.
I am invincible.
It’s just me, the cliff, the water, the sky.
Freedom.

As I walk to the edge, I feel soft grass
Beneath my feet.
There is still some of the morning’s dew
Though that was so long ago.

Now, ***** and wet,
I carefully walk to the edge.
In, out.
In, out.

Do it, I tell myself.
Go.
So I do.
I jump.

I have to say-
the best part is falling.
For just a moment, I feel free again-
Not scared. Then everything floods back.

I thrash and scream-
Then I’m in the water.
Swimming, breathing.
Laughing.

I’ve conquered the cliff-
And the jump.
And if I’ve learned anything, it’s that
fear wakes you up.

haunting
blossoms,
          lustful skies
   turn my daydreams
       but to nigh.

          gentle nightmares
       keep me sane
and     keep this
              hope
   locked in my brain
    
            i won't say
i        like it
    i never will
         but at least
  this way
my thoughts
         won't spill

scars are poetic.

with their twisted faith

they remind us of the past,

a remembrance

kind of wraith.

and songs are poetic,

a memory-to-be,

and a reminding

of who

we used to be.

and stars are poetic,

how they twinkle

in the dark.

they can pull people together;

create a sort of spark.

so take your scars,

take your songs,

and take your stars.

because you are poetic,

you create your own memoir.