The fire in my belly is naught but ashes,
having burnt out long ago
My ardor for the thrills of impulsion. . .
Unlike antique jewelry, kept in an airtight box to
I need to breathe
Where are you?
One who puts my demons to sleep and
illuminates my soul?
Daring me to push the limits of reality. . .
I yearn greatly in your absence
how i loved
each bare, floor
naked walls shadows on
newly empty halls
by day, my head humming
to itself of dreams, i cleaned and scrubbed
to make my life new; dislodging from the corner,
the old moths and cicadas
pinned on the screen dangling from beams,
and each windowsill clutter of dried leaves
This morning the air outside remained still.
I shadowed over leaves, breaking their veins
under the weight of my foot.
The space around me is silent.
A scattered bunch of dots is seen in the distance,
and they are all wearing black.
I feel like we are mourning something and,
in a way, I guess we are.
But we often find ourselves in the darkness.
Maybe that’s why spring is considered
a new beginning.
Because we spend all winter finding out
exactly what that means.
I am discovering myself more and more now.
I remember, I used to hide behind the societal shadow,
I have hid in for a long time.
Suppressing what was known to be a bad sign.
I tried to forget the softness in her hands,
or the way her soft hair would blow onto my face,
entangling me in the scent of flower gardens in the sunrise,
silent whispers in our late-night sleepovers,
and waking up beside her dark circled eyes and her morning messy hair framed on my bed.
I'd glance at the mosaic, but had always turned away.
For awhile, I believed my mind was playing around with my heart like a toy.
I was always taught to fall in love with boys.
Besides, I never thought that I would remember these sensations again.
until the boys had left my heart broken.
And while the love I shared with the male flesh was of my happiest times,
I had to face the fact that he could never be mine.
And so I came to terms with the aesthetics of a girl.
When I first saw her, my brain had whirled.
I was confused for awhile, trying to find if this feeling was true.
And one day, a girl in my art class gave me the proof.
Though I'm quite timid, her sentences and sense of humor laced her tongue like silk.
I couldn't help but glance and let my feelings for her mat together like fabric felt.
Though I'm not ready to begin a relationship until my heart has completely healed,
I will admit, I like girls, I like boys, I know this is what I feel.
I'm understanding myself better and better now.
I hope everyone will accept me to somehow.
Don't you get tired?
Don't you grow sick of doing
the same thing each day?
I know I do.
I always want to learn,
Always want to explore,
Discovering new things EVERY single day
instead of just once in a while.
How can people just dig their own graves through monotony?
Let the new seasons kiss my lips,
The new memories expand my understanding of the universe.
May I be ever changing,
But ever present.
If I ever wanted
to win a Pulitzer Prize,
I will have to still be
working night and day
tirelessly to create
such a profound piece of art
worthy of in your eyes
for collecting such a praised price
But until then and afterwards,
I'll just keep scrawling
lines here and there
for public notice
and high end affairs
as long as my poems
don't remain trapped
in the walls of my imaginations,
yet spread their wings
and fly far away
to the end of the universe
where I behold the priceless gold
we were embers of the night
weeping sparks to satisfy our lust for warmth
our scripture remained on flame-imprinted hearts
where it should've stayed for an eternity, but you found a new start
that is what i thought this was
a beginning to an end
or so it appears
an end to a beginning
and i'm unsure of what to do.
my lips... it seems they've forgotten how to smile
my mind, it is a blank canvas
and i want to be taken back to a life of happiness
these forgotten feelings awaken something in me
an unknown being
hidden in the shadows
a stranger to loves warm touch
it wasn't always like this though
there was a time when hope wasn't a dream
a time where this was better than it seems
a time when happiness wasn't a fleeting whim
now it seems reality isn't real
my soul cries for emotion
yet my head doesn't seem to care
a familiar friend to depressions lasting touch
and i've honestly never felt so lonely when i'm alone
i need a friend
i need a shoulder on which to cry
but no one provides
and so i shall retreat back to solitude
back to a place where no one can see
back to a place where i can be sad little me
and that is where i shall stay
until someone finds me
whilst i try to find myself.