my chest tickles
energy is an odd feeling after many months of emptiness
i sang to the birds today because i woke up and did the dishes
no i didn’t put a bra on but the dishes didn’t mind
my mother tells me i am a good girl, and i am
i smile without her knowing that is the greatest moment of my week

Sure, there are events
That mnemonically make sense,
But the entirety of that day, yes,
Slips as we take new steps
Toward the promised morning beyond our essence.
Trials become more, we grow to become less,
Something we need not confess,
For it cannot be concealed, even in our code of dress.
There are groans for the day to cease and those for the day to onward press,
How can this opinionized split be reconciled? Unless
Our own lives we assess
And remember those moments that still impress
Our minds and attitudes, this can we address.
When the day and our remembrance
Of it seem to fade in all hopelessness
Of retrieval, remember at least the happiness
That kissed you in distress,
That lifted you like incense.
A quintessence
Of what it’s like being on the fence
When time unleashes an offense
In weak defense
Against what we hold nevertheless
Not with hands, but with dense
Feelings, those with irreplaceable innocence.

All those feelings tucked away
   When  depressed

Came leaping out from such a place
    so compressed

Flowing fluttering like butterflies
   And i shall never forget the beautiful bees.

I wished they would land upon me
   On grey days as well as a clear days

They're beautiful these feelings you see
   Just like the butterflies and the bees

Experiencing an alien place,
A place where Phoebus' face
Fails to face the winds
That blow with subtracting grace.

A large green field,
Surrounded by white topped peaks
And the green waters that adds on to the greenery
And hits you with the blows of mist and mystery.

The delight of so vibrant a sight,
Soaking you in the atmosphere so light.
The cold, dark, smokey breaths
That you breathe out of your shivering cold
Breathed out with a rather warmed up heart
Giving your life an entirely new start.

And the glacial fed rivers,
The perennial rivers up north
That freeze in the dark winter
To overpower your damp sweaters.

The snowfall and the nightfall,
The contrast of black and white,
Of darkness and brightness,
The soft fall on the hard grounds,
The gentle touch on the roughness,
And you ask yourself,
Is this the real life?
Life it is, indeed.

Your words freeze as you speak,
Your thoughts freeze as you think,
Immerse yourself in the foggy glory!
Weave yourself a new life story!

There's good days
and bad days
one day the world is sunny
but the next on my shoulders

I can laugh and smile and enjoy the day
be with my friends and feel good
ignore my flaws
smile, not cry

but when I am alone
the sadness drowns me
the pain engulfs me
the mirror pains me
the tears escape me

There's good times
and bad times
I've felt sad for so long
but I can still smile
I hold on to that.

I wake each day,
not to say,
"try to be happy"

but

I wake each day,
to say,
"try to be less sad?"

and being less sad,
includes,
less steep drops,
on sad days,
when trying to be happy,

and trying to be happy,
consists of less advanced,
but a constant setback.
every sad day,

I just try to find the one good thing,
and think about that,
rather then,
all the bad things,
eating at me all day long.

rain finally falls,
pitter-patter,
the heavens burst,
splitter-splatter,
it pours,
drip-drop
down,
noisily,
making itself known,
and thunder growls,
to tell me,
'I'm here!'.