May 2017
the seven things i cannot share
the seven things i cannot share:
1. anxiety (a storm that never ends, the rain slashing my cheeks when it used to softly brush the hair from my eyes)
2. fear (constant; the breath that i pull from my lungs or the thoughts that run rampant in my mind)
i. of things i cannot see (of uncertainty; of the mystics beneath the waves that can grab my ankles and pull me beneath)
ii. of the darkness (the only thing that makes me blind; the only thing that takes away the power that i am afraid of, yet have learned to depend on, like my feet upon clotted soil)
iii. of silence (the thing that dampens the cacophonous torrent to leave a blank slate, begging to be filled with words i am unable to say)
iv. of emotion (the thing that rules in a diamond-encrusted throne in my mind; the thing that has given and taken ten times more away; the thing that has ruined more than built)
3. quiet (the few words on the slate that accompany my chalk-caked, raw fingers; the few words i was able to share under cover of anonymity)
4. truth (the harsh mistress that holds me by a chain and muzzles my philosophies to speak only the sentences required, the syllables necessary)
5. memory (a liquid picture of the grand and the traitorous that falls through my fingers like oil)
6. pain (the intensity that demands to be soft; the thing that i can relate to the most and suffer from in its similarity)
7. happiness (the genuinity that can be used as a weapon, sharpened steel and a weighted hilt; the thing that can build skyscrapers and grasp the clouds to also start wars)
and what i wish i could:
myself (every ounce of stardust, of sea foam, and of burning light)
i. hope (the unerring sense of optimism: that this star won’t explode, but glow brightly with the power of a thousand suns)
ii. dreams (the seemingly impossible and “just within reach”, the moon at the height of day)
iii. loves (the strength with which one can be weak; the strings and cans through which i can share the things i never thought i could, ears and mouths pressed to rough edges with the intent of nothing more than to be there)
the seven things i cannot share:
1. anxiety (a storm that never ends, the rain slashing my cheeks when it used to softly brush the hair from my eyes)
2. fear (constant; the breath that i pull from my lungs or the thoughts that run rampant in my mind)
i. of things i cannot see (of uncertainty; of the mystics beneath the waves that can grab my ankles and pull me beneath)
ii. of the darkness (the only thing that makes me blind; the only thing that takes away the power that i am afraid of, yet have learned to depend on, like my feet upon clotted soil)
iii. of silence (the thing that dampens the cacophonous torrent to leave a blank slate, begging to be filled with words i am unable to say)
iv. of emotion (the thing that rules in a diamond-encrusted throne in my mind; the thing that has given and taken ten times more away; the thing that has ruined more than built)
3. quiet (the few words on the slate that accompany my chalk-caked, raw fingers; the few words i was able to share under cover of anonymity)
4. truth (the harsh mistress that holds me by a chain and muzzles my philosophies to speak only the sentences required, the syllables necessary)
5. memory (a liquid picture of the grand and the traitorous that falls through my fingers like oil)
6. pain (the intensity that demands to be soft; the thing that i can relate to the most and suffer from in its similarity)
7. happiness (the genuinity that can be used as a weapon, sharpened steel and a weighted hilt; the thing that can build skyscrapers and grasp the clouds to also start wars)
and what i wish i could:
myself (every ounce of stardust, of sea foam, and of burning light)
i. hope (the unerring sense of optimism: that this star won’t explode, but glow brightly with the power of a thousand suns)
ii. dreams (the seemingly impossible and “just within reach”, the moon at the height of day)
iii. loves (the strength with which one can be weak; the strings and cans through which i can share the things i never thought i could, ears and mouths pressed to rough edges with the intent of nothing more than to be there)
