"I might win.
I have my fast shoes on."

At a certain
point in our lives
There's no more
"free time"
The closest thing
would be
periods
of
inactivity
procrastination
Or only long term deadlines
remaining
We may
have "breaks"
But even if it takes a
stop
...
We're still on the train
of life
Chugging away

When I think of the future,
I cannot grasp the thought of a career.
But, I think of a kitchen with wood panels, windows, and a few too many plants.
Of sitting in the rain, watching the sky turn dark.
I think of a symphony in the trees.

I think of saying I love you.
Of all the different ways I could say, I love you.
I think of taking your fist in mine and kissing it, because they say its the size of your heart.
Of a gentle touch with an attempt to take your pain away.
I'll repeat it a million times until I lose my breath, I love you.

Yesterday it rained.
‘ ,  ‘,/  ‘ ,  ‘ ,\’ ,‘ , ‘ , ’
,   ‘ ,\ , ‘ ,‘ , ‘/‘,  ‘, , ‘
‘  ‘ ‘ /‘ , ‘ , ‘  \’  ‘, ‘ ,
‘   ‘  ‘ ‘  ‘   ‘  ‘  ‘  ‘   ‘
Forcing my lights to power off.
Last month we planted a seed.
We fantasized about our future SUN(or)FLOWER.
But lightening struck late last night.
Destroying my garden,
Snatching away my sunshine,
Leaving me trapped under heavy rain clouds.
Pouring teardrops of pain on my window.
Filling the skies with thundering disappointments,
As our paper plane came crashing down.
Dissolving in sorrow-filled puddles before our eyes.
All too soon, there was no time left between our “Hellos” & our “Goodbyes.”

The ocean calls for my departure
don't mourn these waves
I was destined to return just like King Arthur

Scribbled words on our skin
invisible ink tells of prophecies
and all the lives that have not been

Pulled the sword from the stone
Naive to think that we'd be crowned
but rather released an angry storm

These stories speak of hate and resentment
it flows much more effortlessly
so much pain in trying to be sentient

Still I will not give in to bitterness
I wait for the storm to pass
to return to sea and drown in bliss

The carpeted bluebells
under the woodland canopy
swaying in ecstasy
to the hypnotic tunes of the morning breeze
invite me
to blend with them
to create a new shade of Spring.

Am I not privileged?