the present world
can pull you back in time -
sometimes a gentle pull,
sometimes a hard yank
to remind you of the past.

you take a trip
to meet your past self.
you watch her love,
grow, make mistakes -
she and you are one.

then you take a deep breath,
whispering a farewell
to your past self.
you walk through time,
returning to the present.

my eyes were downcast,
never meeting my reflection,
my body shrunk into itself
when shame embraced me.

I straightened my shoulders,
and shame got out of the way.
I kept my arms out, forming a bubble
that shame could never, ever break.

and once I did that,
I greeted the mirror,
and my reflection smiled
for the first time.

a dull ache, 
a crashing pain.
wistfulness from afar,
love from within.
a smile with watery eyes
disguising the heartache. 
tales pass through lips,
minds strengthening memories.
imagining him at your side,
knowing he won't be there,
but wondering anyway.
wanting to see the past
and stay in the present 
and experience the future.
thinking about whether 
you're meant to be
or if the finality will reign.
weather, cities, 
conversations, the world,
bringing you back 
to memories with him. 
his special touch 
stayed with you - 
and it will always stay.

my heart spills its feelings
similar to how blood flows.
my cheeks turn scarlet
as my eyes take him in.
the hue of my thoughts
is the color of love.

our deepest desires
shine under the soft light.
they always catch fire
as we whisper good night.

my hometown has a straight edge,
obedient new kid vibe -
one that other cities hate.
yet it resides in my heart,
its memories forming
the shape of who I am today.

my trust is like waves of the ocean.
they meet the sand at the shore,
then run away faster than ever.
if the waves are too strong,
will the sand vanish...
or will it be pulled by the waves?

before I step out into public,
I lock my opinions in a safe
that resides deep within
the ridges of my brain.
I wear a sweet smile
to mask the dull pain
radiating throughout my body.

but when I enter my safe space,
I strip myself of that smile,
and look my pain in the eye.
I dig into the ridges of my brain
to grab and unlock the safe.
I welcome my vulnerability
in all its undisguised nakedness.

it illuminated all,
hid nothing
her first instinct:
close the blinds
and her eyes.
  
after a while
she opened the blinds.
her eyes followed suit,
squinting, adjusting,
taking in her surroundings.

the light shook hands
with the darkness
its touch healed,
helping her produce
light of her own.

a statue quietly lurks
in the corner of my mind,
waiting until all is calm.
when the dark shroud
falls over the blue sky,
the statue comes to life
as a vicious, fang-bearing,
red-eyed, gnarly demon.
the demon pulls a dream apart
with its long, pointy claws,
injecting the shreds with poison
until they tangle up in each other
to become a tight, infectious knot
that can only be untangled...by waking up.

than sweet moments suspended in time
like thick, dark, smooth molasses
resisting the strong pull of gravity
as it flows from a shiny silver spoon.

she walks into an abyss.
the light slowly fades -
she barely notices.

she starts to run
as her breathing quickens.
she claws at the abyss,
hoping for a way out.

she hears a voice,
soft yet secure,
that guides her.
the light appears as
she takes small steps.

she keeps walking
until the light engulfs her.
she is free.

the ticking of a well-known clock is always in the background
as we draw breath from a planet designed to accommodate us.

sometimes, it lurks in the shadows
as we fill our hearts with love.
the present takes us by the hand,
so we stay with it joyfully.

other times, it bounces off the cold, white walls
until we cannot remember a day without it.
hope has flown away, so we wander through the past,
trying to find a way to put the noise to bed.

we find a moment that is soft to the touch -  
where the only sound we can hear is laughter.
we hold it to our chests to stay warm
as we close our eyes in surrender.

the ticking finally stops.

the feelings became an engraved key chain:
its grooves were made just for me.
I hid the key chain in my back pocket,
shielding it from the side eyes,
but when the people saw it,
they took out their own key chains,
and the designs were very similar.
now my key chain is in my hand,
and I show it whenever I want.

he latched onto her inexperience,
his fangs sank into her skin,
refusing to let go until
he had full access.

her heart raced,
but for the wrong reasons
her thoughts ran in circles
until they couldn't run anymore.

she noticed the poisonous leech
desperately attempted to shake him
yet his fangs sank in deeper -
drawing blood, forming a scar.

their experience helped her
remove the leech,
the poison was drained
with an antidote - support.

she wanted to paint over
the marks on her face
to create a blank canvas
so their eyes would not
drill holes into her pores.
but before she could paint,
two arms wrapped around her,
slowly turning her around.
her eyes were downcast
as he kissed her every mark.
"I love your constellations.
Please don't hide them,"
he gently whispered.
she pulled him closer,
leaning back onto the counter.
the brush fell to the ground
as they savored their sweet love.

they may carry children
with cotton-candy-tinted glasses,
or adults who nudge the world
to align with their visions,
or the elderly who see a path
of golden light ahead of them,
or animals who always beam
around their fellow humans,
and...
they carry children with shoulders
that know the weight of the world
or adults who see their dreams shattering
all around them like a broken mirror,
or the elderly who can only see gray clouds,
wondering when the darkness will lift,
or animals who are suffocated by the noise
and crave the fresh air and blue skies.
these vessels carry more stories than
the number of stars in this infinite universe.

it climbs up their thin veins,
worming its way under their skin,
until it digs into their vulnerable minds,
controlling them from the inside out,
until they twist the life out of others.
the prey become the predators.

on some days
I'm a piece of sandpaper -
rubbed and rubbed
until I'm raw and stinging,
until there's almost nothing left.

but there's a little corner
that doesn't sting,
that renews my hope,
that heals every part of me
until I'm whole again.

your fears may seem like giants
you, on the other hand,
are reduced to a speck.
you need to speak to the giants
tell them what you know -
that they're trying to protect you.
thank them, then let go of their hands.
you'll grow and grow until
you're eye level with the giants
then, you'll tell them you're strong,
that you can handle this.
the giants will shrink and shrink
until they become specks.

when you've been trained on a minefield
other places will have you on the tips of your toes.
trying not to talk, look, or even breathe wrong
in case a mine explodes -
even if there are no mines.
to avoid the mines you've been taught to expect,
you compress until you can't move -
even if there are no mines.
your heart and soul lose air.
you minimize your emotions until
you're convinced they're not there.

yet you're allowed to take up space.
take up all the space you need.
your heart and soul don't just need air;
they need shelter, food, and water.
your emotions need room
to expand and contract.
your voice can project and flourish
until your confidence lights up the room.
you deserve spaces where you can just be.
not every place is a minefield.

even as your heart drags you through the circles of hell
and your knees buckle under the weight of life,
a soft, confident voice rouses the parts of your soul
that nudge your spirit back into its natural rhythm.
you slowly rise, feeling the ashes under your feet.

that day broke me.
a part of me left.
I don't know
if it'll come back,
if I'll be me again.

but I'm trying.
I'm picking myself up,
taking small steps,
looking for the missing part.
I hope to be me again.

they burned my heart
over and over again
until the ashes fell,
slumping over in defeat.

even as pain radiates
through my entire body,
the ashes rise into a phoenix,
and my heart takes flight again.

sadness grips my neck in a choke-hold
its hands cold and rough to the point in which
I don't know if I can escape with life left in me.

she didn't see him slithering.
her heart was pounding,
but everything seemed fine
until she felt him
coiling around her
tighter and tighter
until she couldn't breathe.

she clutched a pocketknife.
with the last drop of
strength she had,
she slashed him
and he slithered away.
after she caught her breath,
she realized he was a snake.

I'm six feet underground, disoriented.
did I dig the grave, or was I meant for it?
the soil clumps together, stronger than ever
as it presses my chest, never to sever.
as I claw my way up, branches stab like pins.
before long, the deep cuts sear my exposed skin.

my eyes tire, and I rest.
but my rest fails the test.

the soil weighs me down further,
bringing me where demons murmur.
and that is where I now stand,
trapped in a layer of land.
and since making a move burns,
staying gives me what I deserve.

a frosting-filled slice
eaten one day is a treat -
fluffy, sweet, luxurious.

eaten every day -
nails encrusted with frosting,
cloying, drained, decayed.

this day weighs the world down
as we hold a collective breath,
waiting for the future to reveal itself.
we pray to every deity,
toss every coin,
and carry love in our hearts
for all who are suffering.
we are here to lighten the load
in any way possible.

the threads connecting us
to our loved ones
need to stay strong
like spider's silk
to survive this battle.

as her glass heart beats,
it cracks little by little
as her chest caves in.
she closes her eyes.
her deep, slow breaths
restore her aching body
as her chest straightens.
the cracking suddenly stops.
her soul glues the cracks
and her heart is whole again,
stronger than ever before.

the waves lulled her
into a restful state
until she woke up
deep in the ocean
with tangled seaweed
around her.

"is this how it'll end?"
"no," a voice whispered.
her body valiantly fought
to reach the surface.
she took a much needed breath
as the waves carried her to the shore.

words trapped within thick layers of ice
are embraced by the warmth of spring.
they can finally breathe and be free.

he glued down a blue, square tile
to the bare, boring floor.
my purple triangle moved in
right next to the square
like it was meant to be there.
our hands kept the tiles in place,
then we took a step back,
and his arms surrounded me.
we did this every day
until the pattern became
our solid foundation.

a little simile here,
a splash of metaphor there,
all carefully folded and mixed
to form a delicious souffle.

it goes into the oven
at the perfect temperature.
the souffle begins to rise,
the sweet aroma engulfs the room.

but the timer chimes early.
they take the souffle out,
and it sinks within itself,
forming a deep, large canyon.

but this souffle is different.
they put it back in the oven.
it bakes longer and longer
until it finally rises again.

my mind is the city
that never sleeps.
thoughts roam the streets -
some with circular commutes.
some glare at each other
some smile, uplifting everyone.
despite the chaotic rhythm,
the underlying beat of my heart
determines the pace of the city.

I walk along a trapeze,
palms sweaty, legs shaking,
refusing to fall either way.
to go left is to fall into a fire
for a life which burns my bones.
the people will smile upon me,
oblivious to the ash surrounding them.
to go right is to fall into soft trees.
the leaves caress my skin,
but the people vanish like smoke,
and I fall to the ground.
the exact middle is survival
until I reach the other side.

brow creases lightly
piano sings a soothing song -
fingers in their turf.

before, questions lingered in the air.
weary eyed nights were spent
stuffing yourself into a small box
for someone who only took you
on long, winding, painful paths
where the ends were shrouded
by looming trees and bushes.

now, the air is blissfully clear.
someone smiles when you stretch.
they walk right alongside you.
there may be darkness along the way,
but they will hold your hand through it.
the end of this path is straight ahead -
bright, expansive, and fruitful.

I walked around, arms always crossed,
never speaking until I was spoken to.
I kept my head down, subservient to a ruler
who knew and preyed on my every weakness.

Lately, I've been fighting back.
My arms are outstretched, accepting what comes.
I released the anchors that sank my heart for years
without waiting for anyone's approval - only mine.

My head is held high.
The ruler can't weaponize the truth anymore.
My acceptance drained the poisonous power
of the ruler's previously potent weapons.

Now I am not ruled by anyone.
Try as they might, they'll never trap me again.
I'll never let them for as long as I draw breath,
and my spirit can finally soar to the greatest of heights.

a memory wrapped its cold, rough hands
around my throat, squeezing it tightly.
as I tried to walk away, the memory
stuck its foot out, blocking my path.
I could only muster a pitiful squeak
as I fell face first onto the ground,
and the memory fell on top of me,
effectively holding my body hostage.
its hands were still on my throat,
but it was invisible to everyone else.
they only saw me fall to the ground.
they asked me what was wrong,
but I did not have air that could
breathe life into the powerful words
that were begging to leave my mind.
a sheet of paper suddenly appeared
underneath my right palm,
and a pencil rolled my way.
I gripped the sturdy pencil with
every ounce of strength I still had,
steadying the paper with my wrist,
and I wrote the words I couldn't say
so they would stop begging to leave,
even as the memory gripped my throat.
as I kept writing, I noticed the memory
stopped feeling as heavy on my body.
it was getting ****** into the paper.
it resisted at first, but after a while,
the memory slowly let go of me
and relaxed into the pencil marks.
when I had no more words left,
I picked myself up off the ground,
placed the pencil above my ear,
took the paper, hugged it to my chest,
and walked away with a smile on my face.

fear is a tiny seed
planted in my lower belly.
my thoughts fuel the seed
to sprout with gentle ease.
its roots are finally free,
wrapping around my feet,
never letting me flee.
it grows into a nimble tree
whose branches strangle me.
the tree wears prickly leaves
that sting my aching body
until my eyes succumb to sleep.