I’m not a pessimist.

But I hear the drumbeat of inadequacy
Keeping time to the echoed songs of a forgotten world.

I’m not a pessimist.

But I feel the bass of a billion irregular heartbeats
Ticking to to the sound of a broken clock.

I’m not a pessimist.

But I see the angry smashing of waves on skin
Crashing with the clicks of a slowing metronome.

I’m not a pessimist.

But I smell the metallic scent of a broken machine
Grinding to a halt while the societal dance speeds up its pace.

I’m not a pessimist.

But I taste the bitterness of infinite gray nowheres
Drifting endlessly while the band plays on.

My first poem did not come to me
Shrouded in darkness
Not shuttered with wisdom
Nor carved with sharpness.

It walked with others
Hazily defined
It breathed my sorrows
It glimpsed my mind.

My first poem did not leap
Across the abyss
‘Stead wand’ring through meadows
Tracing Earth’s kiss.

It read all old memories
Built a new bridge
It called to the past
It raced through the mist.

My first poem was imperfect
Shapeless in ruin
Thin bone of poems proper
But extremely human.

With you, I want to be gentle.
I ask only that you do the same for me.
I will touch you carefully,
I will leave you if you ask.

With you, I will be gentle.
I ask only that you do the same for me.

I will hold your hands delicately,
I will speak softly and listen well.

With you, I hope to be gentle.
I ask only that you do the same for me.

I will protect your heart,
I will hold your hopes and your sorrow.

With you, I know I’ll be gentle.
I ask only that you do the same for me.

I will learn your story by heart,
I will keep it safe inside.

With you, I swear I’ll be gentle.
I ask only that you do the same for me.

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.’