Here
Is where I'm safe,
Writing
always safer,
Somehow my pen can’t,
stutter as my lips do,
Words get stuck in throats,
But never fingertips

Curses
instead of cursive,
We won’t stumble
across paper,
We save that for our
Unfolded rugs,
Here we won’t
fall off the edges,
Because even if we do
It has elegance,
Balance idly follows poise

That’s why we have
our guides,
Solid trails of blue lines
Form our foundation,
Making definite and clear,
our ideas, thoughts,
         selves

Reading this, you can't tell I’m crying,
   am i?
Reading this you can't tell me I’m wrong,
          how can words be wrong?


Thoughts can
we catch them,
Like thieves in the night
Slipping
In between the cracks,
green eyed warriors with broken smiles,
            broken promises

Thoughts becoming our subconscious bombs
underground, unheard,
We walk into no man’s land
without a cover,
stepping,
          testing our grounds,
       waiting for the blasts

So we write about our past,
romanticized
Our future,
anticipated


We write ourselves a map
because this time we’ll figure it out,
this time,
the words will make sense
One day

Words will whisper,
tell us what we might not know,
            what we might not understand
Tell us our present
Can it be returned?

Writing makes things clear
our own words cannot hide the truth

Writing is real, raw, ridged
forever undisguised,

It can be whatever it wants
whatever we might need it to be,
Either a "yours truly",
       or a "yours sincerely"
or maybe it was never really ours
Maybe it ends in
               "best regards…"

Through written words alone
we can understand ourselves,
Open up closed doors,
heal the cracks left behind,
By our green eyed monsters
that we never seem to find

Emoting becomes a cure all,
        end all,
        of time,
        of silent sufferings

We’re all born blind
we don’t see what we don’t understand,
what we never want to have to understand
Until we write it down
unhinge

We stare into broken mirrors
the reflection of our ideas, opinions,
Unable to detect the fractions of light
or the scars we like to keep covered

Words,
an honest to god friend
Guiding,
through those blue lines
the hidden crooked valleys
magnified by our storms
our moments

All the in-between white spaces
missing pieces
we look to fill with black,
Making us finally learn to analyze
to ask ourselves
About those white li(n)es

Opening ourselves,
Trusting our words,

to the unknown