My ex used to say I was his little bird
I thought maybe because I was so small
And every morning I would sing sweet songs
As the sun peaked high through our window

In the evenings we'd sit beside the emptied bath
He'd say I was as cute as a baby white dove
Without knowing I instead began to mourn the life
I had before I held his disconnected love

An endless yearning had grown in my heart
To soar above the rooftops and tall trees
I had evidently become his effortless prey
Falling in love that young is so naïve

I believed I was that measly little bird
A hollow ***** victim crying over clipped wings
Another sacrifice to romanced circumstance
So I built a nest around regret and lost dignity

I used to hate being called his little baby bird
But he had convinced me that we were equal
Until I realized he was the frail white-winged dove
And he caged me because I was an eagle

All the me's that I have been
Are all the voices stuck in my head
They never stop tearing me to shreds
I wish I knew ******* them

I bought myself a new car
In March of 2024
It came with all the bells and whistles
A bright green Ford Bronco Sport

My old Chevy stayed in the driveway
Gathering dust for quite a long while
The Bronco eventually had to go back to the dealer
New cars always have recalls

After 10 years and 140,000 miles
The Cruze just wouldn't stay running
I replaced the battery, alternator, and drive belt
Even the fuel pump to be cautious

I wondered if she was punishing me
For leaving her to sit in the sun
She just wasn't as reliable anymore
And I didn't want to be stranded again

That car took me so many places
She never broke down when I drove away from pain
All those trips to New Orleans and Milwaukee
Funerals, former homes, and divorce court dates

The turbo saved my life, I'm sure
More than a few times on the interstate
I love my new car but I'm not ready to let go
Sometimes, my little Chevy was the only place I felt safe

I wish I would have known
The last time I was in her driver seat
It would be the end of our grand adventures
Windows down, cigarette in hand, with heavy metal blasting

My face is getting round
And my hair is turning gray
I'm only in my early 30s
It's not supposed to be this way

My old T-shirts are getting tighter
And I hate looking in the mirror
I never used to have to work for it
Now I'm depressed that age has caught up with me

Laying in bed doesn't solve anything
Watching the same shows over and over
Crying that my life can't just be written for me
I have to participate in a script that can be uncomfortable

Sometimes, when I sneeze
I accidentally *** a little bit
It's a side effect of giving birth
A funny little parting gift from my kid

This body has been damaged in several various ways
I used to be smaller and more attuned
My face thinner, eyes brighter
But I have officially aged past my youth

I'm still learning to view myself in a better light
To accept the woman and mother I've become
And be more mindful of my wisdom and experiences
Because I wouldn't have these wrinkles without laughter and love

I wanted to be an artist
But instead, I have to write
It felt like a death sentence
A funeral of my thoughts paraded through every line

I used to think this writing
Was something I could not control
An entity separate from myself
Some godly gift I was made to play host

They say poetry is as old a time
So was I born with a seed planted in my heart?
Did childhood trauma unlock this age old art?
Was I damaged to the brink of another being inhabiting my spirit?

The walls must have cracked inside my head
I truly accepted I was to become nothing
Until these words kept spilling from my pen
Pouring out over and over so that I could finally breathe again

These sparks would come and leave whenever they wanted
Using my mind as if it's a vacation home
Like I'm an Airbnb or some excursion from the darkness
Leaving behind crumbs of poetry at my door

I used to believe I was not the authority
Of this treasure that I occasionally displayed
All alone with my little scraps of notes
Then, something happened I cannot explain

I sunk my teeth into this otherworldly guest
And chained them to my stained broken walls
Now the inspiration flows as if my cup was never empty
This new liberated ability that so fluently translates art

I wanted to be an artist
But my hands were not meant to be covered in paint and color
They were crafted long before the day I was born
To write inspiration into the hearts others

I was always meant to be a spout
For an endless flow of hallowed water
There was never an infiltration by an ancient angry entity
I was simply given the fate of a melancholy poet

Now that I'm in control of this limitless power
I see beauty in the wind and wide open space
Creativity can be triggered from the simplest conversation
Because everything is inspiring if you're looking in the right place

I'm grateful for this gift that was bestowed upon me
Whether trauma or inheritance, it's no longer relevant
Now I see the whole of existence as a literary muse
And the paintings that I write into your mind is where you'll find the artist

There are no more heroes
Unless you're what the media wants
No more Sylvia's or Emily's
Never another Edgar, Whitman, or Frost!

I am but a drop in an ocean
My heart will stay stuck in my throat
Fame will only come upon my end!
The plight of a natural born poet

All we know is write, write, write!
Words that wont reach until our last breath
Must we exist in this silence while forced to be alive?
We'll never know who was saved from our death!

How terribly embarrassing!
Those who sit in a fluorescent white room
Being taught what we were born to know
To love, and write, and lose!

Once I was a ghost
Floating between the realms
There was never such a thing
As light or dark or oblivion

I drifted through the gray desert
Without sun or wind or mountain sides
Desolate land stretched eternity
I stayed content as a cold thin line

Endless wandering ended my search
Though I knew not what for
A glimmer caught my periphery
And gravitated me towards a glow

My essence was then quickly surrounded
By beams of warm yellow light
I never knew there could be such a sensation
Nor any awareness of this bewitching sight

I had uncovered an unknown phenomenon
Of light and dark and density
I was delivered into a world of immeasurable color
Mountains that gleam with sun and trees

This body I found brought me elegant gifts
Such as sight and sound and infinite love
I've since become a stranger to the desolate gray
Now my ghost is possessed by life and home