Feelings
They come trickling down
Washing like waterfalls wonderfully whispering white lies in your ear
“Why don’t you listen?”
Enticing,
“Come closer, dear.”

Feelings
They come angrily,
Stomping like soldiers soullessly
hurling daggers at your heart
Waiting for it to start
Or or maybe to stop
Beating

Feelings
They envelop you in their embrace
Eagerly reaching like they need attention
or they will die
Yelling
Until everything else
Becomes a lie

Feelings
They are why we live
Holding fast to us like they will never let go
We know they won’t
For fear of leaving us lost, wonting
In a world without beauty

In a world without

Feeling

What is happiness?

It’s cutting the brownies right as they come out of the oven
and burning your tongue on them because you ate them too soon

but it’s worth it.

It’s the leathery scent of the old saddle you used to have
dusted with memories that make your eyes wet so you wait to blow the dust off

and it’s worth it.

It’s the puffy red wrists in winter
after your gloves came off and you didn’t put them back on because they were too cumbersome

but it’s worth it.

It’s the hike that made you fall and skin your knee
but you kept walking because it was so beautiful

and it’s worth it.

It’s saying ‘I love you’ for the first time and not even caring if they say it back because you mean it with all of your heart and you’re still scared

but it’s worth it.

It’s riding a bike own your own finally even though everyone else has known
for years and you’re a little behind and ashamed to admit it

and it’s worth it.

It’s friends and laughter and adventures
and telling your deepest secrets
and hearing theirs and hoping to heavens they won’t tell

but it’s worth it.

Happiness is many things.

and it’s worth it.

Sometimes the mirror speaks to me.

Shh... listen closer

Can you hear?

Sometimes when I walk by, it speaks in tongues I once did not understand

But now I speak the language fluently.

‘Not good enough, not good enough.’

Sometimes when I speed past, it grabs me, shaking me urgently

I must know this information now, not later!

‘Look at yourself. Just look. What happened?’

And now it has me trained. I stop whenever I pass it, for I know it wishes to speak.

Sometimes I even talk back.

Sometimes I simply walk past.

Until it calls me again, declaring in its mocking tone:

’We need to have a talk.’

Enamored.

Oh, but what does it mean?

I am enamored with you.

In which way?

Enamored.

E-N-A-M-O-R-E-D.

Verb; be filled with a feeling of love for.

Or

Have a liking or admiration for.

You are enamored with me.

In which way?

I know that I am enamored with you.

And I know in which way, too.

But this word,

This word that so easily slipped off my tongue,

Now catches in my throat.

We are enamored with each other.

But in which way?

What do I see when I look in the mirror?

I am made of measurements.

I measure the space between my thighs,
The width of my arms,
The time since I have last worn my glasses.

I measure my achievements,
The weight of my successes,
The heaviness of my failures.

I measure the sharpness of my jaw,
The veins on my hands
The blue in my eyes.

I measure my intellect,
The depth of my vocabulary,
The numbers on my report card.

I measure humanity,
The accomplishments of others,
The good and evil of society.

I measure myself,
My looks,
My mind,
My intentions,
My actions,
My triumphs,
My shortcomings,
My reputation,
My future,
My past,
Me.