She scratches at my head
I’m scared you’ll come in
“Do not worry”, she tells me
“I am here but for a second”
Then why stop at all?
She pushes the hair behind her ear,

She is beautiful

“I am here because I wanted to be,
can you say the same?”

I scratch at my head

I really can’t say
other than it was nice
to be here with you

Darling,
the words are now wilting,
give birth to the scent of roses.
The youth we fail to understand, expectations are increasingly wanted to always be fulfilled.
Bringing the flocks,
then grow and age.
If only things couldn't go away so easily,
maybe we've always been there.

The bonsai grew all wrong
Its branches outweigh the base
And the wood is whispy and pale
Without the spring a sapling entails
It's big, much too big, too long
A band stretched past its place
Becomes a twig in impatient hands
Pressured, and snapped, and palmed
Bonsai's mature slowly
With snow and vibrant leaves
To rush things is more than lowly
You've sold their soul you thieves

One and two;
Those days so unlikely for you,
Three and four;
Lost the keys to lock my pride's door,
So by five and six;
Felt like I was looking for a fix,
Because seven and eight;
I was only filled with hate.

Tried my best to;
smile with all my fake friends,
Probably why I was so depressed
by just nine and ten.
Eleven elevated tears,
that never met the ground;
Twelve years of screaming to myself,
but without a sound.

Making up for time;
making thirteen daily mistakes,
And fourteen identities;
To mask away this face.
With fifteen reasons for me,
To hate living in such a lonesome way.
Being sixteen gets you so excited;
For being an adult some day.

So I skipped through seventeen;
So by eighteen I could be going out,
In this crazy world for an escaping.
Not to mention,
Nineteen was just the oddest;
And running me down out of my patience.

Twenty was only a bonus round;
Straight after I lost more than I could gain,
By the time twenty-one came around.

But at this current age,
I gained Hope for a better sense of life;
Living through daily troubles,
trying my best to be focused on His light.
Guess at twenty-two;
I gained some wisdom and better insight.

And truly numbers don't lie.

As I sit, my heart stands and my head goes roaming.
I am half lost in thought and dilemma of growth. The wishes of growing up getting intense on my nerves as I don’t wish to get any younger much as age keeps me on the advance.
Now, I count the mornings, days and the nights knowing it’s easy to slumber but not with the weight of my dreams. When I look at the mark of 100% and haven’t attained close to 50% I go weary. Midlife crisis has struck with its luggage of famous responsibilities.
I will not stay comfortable because my age mates aren’t where my focus is for I believe I need to set the bar for myself and my companions. The thought of it itches so bad so bad to bring me butterflies, and then goes insecurity, to loose what you already have grip on. Family, closet friends and your hustling grounds.
To this point the rhyme of Psalms 23 keep rolling on my lips as my eyes are close in meditation, every time I sit even when I go to bed. I want to raise my hand to admit it’s not easy being an adult, neither is it so hard. The difference comes when we fail to strike a balance to know WHAT GOES ON AND WHAT WE MUST LET GO?
In the end I come to appreciate Life, Life God has given me and has given us. Something I have as the biggest asset I run to the third floor.
I am not concerning about who went there first; I am in contemplation of the uniqueness I will bring to the table. We nearly live half of our lives in 20’s as it’s believed to be a time of adventure. Well I can’t regret want I went through for these lessons I am ready to carry to the third floor and a warning to myself that I won’t tolerate anything or even myself for standing in my way. To those who choose us and set to battle and see us better, cheers and to blood suckers against our progress talk to the hand.

That brief moment
Walking into the shaded apartment to find you reading in flannel
And everything in me jumps
The camera obscura of my iris snaps,
Suspending you in amber light.
The tapered elegance of your fingers across a page
A glint of Versailles blue-gold eyes
And fortified ramparts of your shoulders.
I will carry this vestige with me
In a petticoat pocket
Until we are old
And your arms do not lift me as you just did
The last strand of your hair is silver
And your cheeks sink with age like your father’s.
These small gems of youth
Of promise
To keep in a sleeve until they are needed
And the mirrors show reflections we cannot change