i started to see the nuances
of all the love inside myself
within each absence
of what i knew i deserved.

tidal nostalgia floods in
staining the sand beneath
each step i take.

a storm rattling my bones,
and a silence paralyzing my exterior.
stories i keep locked away,
an electric code only i can decipher.
a truth solidified into flesh,
distrust molding my shoulders.
a fear of being misunderstood,
history repeats over and over.

you guard yourself
like my emotions
are nocked silver arrows
aimed at a truth deep within you,
one that you cannot bear to witness.

i am in a waiting room.
for weeks i have lived inside these four walls of expectation.
hoping that one day, my name be called.
that one day a stranger might open that door, hook me up to some clunky beeping machine,
and tell me that i am alive.

take my words
for what you see
as they float down
a stream of propensity.
your mind is the potter
my words are the clay
the artwork you create
is not the message i relay.
it is up to you
to make this choice:
what will you hear?
of which voice?

humor me
with an unknown.
and i will find freedom
in understanding that
a known
must emerge.

i had to choose fear
so that i might remember
how to choose love.