Windows to the soul

The windows to her soul are green
Big and round
The color of fresh tea leaves
I bet you thought I was going to say emeralds
They are filled with amusement
Sometimes mystery
And when I am in trouble, plenty of mischief
They sparkle in the sun
But turn dark, almost black when she is angry

They can make feel uncomfortable when I am guilty of something
They provoke me to the point I want to spill my secrets the deepest darkest and dirtiest ones
They encourage me whenever I am not sure of something
They hold my gaze forever just when I think it is not possible to love this woman any more than I did yesterday
They flirt with me in the driveway when she is about to leave for work
They tease me between the sheets when we are tangled up in each other
They glare at me when my mouth works faster than my brain
They laugh at me when I make fool of myself in the kitchen
They shrink in size and tear up when I cannot hold on to my tongue
They smile at me in the morning
They have showered me with love, appreciation, concern and trust for the last 36 years

But right now as I sit here and look at her lying still in that cheap hospital gown
With her face a covered in a mask with shades of red and purple
I can see them, but they cannot see me

At times I feel socially awkward
hiding away those eyes from contact
mumbling and stuttering
as though I were stumbling,
upon the words as I was discovering.

Please don’t think I don’t want to talk
when I rush out,
Please don’t think I don’t want to talk,
when I don’t open your messages.

I escape out of nervosity
I feel the fuzziness in my head
butterflies in my stomach
nervosity in my nerves
lack of air in my lungs
tremble in my muscles
and the gritting of my teeth on my nails
as it drains every ounce of energy out of me.

I hide behind shadows
so I don’t encounter any social interaction.

No matter how many times I plan
and play a conversation in my head
I shudder and fret in reality,
making myself look like an awkward mess.

I want to be friends
I want to say hi
but the words do not escape
for I feel tongue tied.

I feel conscience and dreadful
for being such an awkward mess
choking on words
unable to let them
escape my tongue.

I am thinking
more than I am speaking
I can have a conversation in my head
but somehow, I find it difficult in reality.

But then you reach out
and make the first move
It makes it easier;
only to find myself
being an embarrassment once again.

But you don’t judge
you play it cool
and remain patient
you still show an eager to talk
and maybe that was what I needed
to be comfortable and me.

God. How am I still not okay?

God. It's been so long.

God. I'm so tired of life right now.

God. What happened to me?

I was such a nice kid.
I was calm all the time.
Mature for my age,
Little but so lively.

I was so helpful.
So loyal.
I always supported my trust.
But I never really spoke my mind.

I was shy.
I was small.
I never stood up for my feelings
I never stood up for myself.

And now I'm older.
I realize I don't need support.
I need myself.
I need confidence.

Speaking your mind is not wrong.
Standing up for your feelings isn't rude.
Standing up for yourself isn't mean.
Saying what you feel doesn't make you imperfect.

No one's perfect. Not even them.
The ones you hate for being so amazing.
Maybe she has anxiety.
Maybe his mom is alcoholic.

No one has a perfect life.
There's not one perfect family in the world.
There is not a person in the world who's perfect.
There's not a person who doesn't have one bit of strife.

But just because you aren't perfect.
Doesn't make you less worth it.
You're amazing.
You're still charming, kind, and strong.

You're just more experienced.
You just understand some more things now.

And maybe, just maybe,
You just aren't as shy anymore.

high on the plant
that grows out of the soil
reaching far against the turmoil
the turmoil called life
the turmoil called death
fist to fist on an endless fight