You complain of pits and
wrinkles and dark marks
and shadows of old age.
You say that the shadows
of your life in the world
will haunt you for your
remaining days.
You are wrong.
You, my friend, are a Tonka bean.
Your outer skin is wrinkled
and darkened, but that’s just part
of the growth, part of the journey.
Inside, you’re a rich, chocolatey
brown, with flavors that remind me
of vanilla, cinnamon,
saffron, almond and cloves.
You are so sweet and full-bodied
and well-rounded and all I am trying
to say is that You’re so much more
that the skin on the outside of your body.
You have so much experience
and wisdom to offer the
world.

There is some kind of
soft magic in the way
striking the same key over
and over again, hearing the
same note over and over
again can bring a chill to
my skin and tears to my eyes.
Even if you only played that
key for the rest of your life,
know, that it has moved me so,
and that I will forever be inspired,
imagining what the rest of your
lovely tune could possibly be.

Hot on my lips
the amber liquid flows
even with milk and
honey, it could never
be as sweet as you.

I am so very sorry for  how sweet I must taste that you’d accidentally
let my name roll off your tongue, whilst savoring her.

Except, that I'm not.

You asked me if I’d ever been to honey
creek. And when
I shook my head,      you
                           took my hand and led
                                                        me into the tall trees.

The river was
frozen over and moss
                                    hung like beards on
   the bare branches.
You said to close my eyes and breathe in
                            the world around me.
The nature, the beauty
                                      and the quiet of the forest.
It quickly became my favorite place, not because of
     what I saw there, but because of
                                                   what I couldn’t see.

I take back everything I ever said about the things I would and wouldn’t be caught dead doing.

I could never ever have known the person I’d grow up to be.

It used to be that the things that kept me in my comfort zone were
boring, but now, they bring me solace, and those that remain outstanding, somehow bring me the most joy.

I dance a very intricate dance between two worlds, struggling to find my place somewhere in the middle.

Somehow, I find myself teetering over one edge or the other, never truly at peace and never truly bothered enough to give this life up.

I’ve lost track of the weeks,
started
losing motivation,
losing momentum.

Or rather gaining momentum?

Moving like a snowball, rolling downhill,
all control lost, spiraling.
No doubt, collision, just around the corner,
waiting betting on my failure.
I’m not frozen yet- and when the snow melts,
I’ll either sink or swim.