I know not every knitty, chubby white skinned,
curly bird nested messy haired girl with
a cute piglet like face is you
but
I still catch up with everyone of them just to make sure
I don't miss you once again.

I’ve always been good at navigating. I can find my way in a crowd or a city unknown to me. I no longer get shaky when I think about getting lost. Asking strangers for directions has never been a problem. My legs take me as far as I need to go, and my feet share secrets with the road to bargain with back in the bazaar of my head. We know how to get there. We usually do.  I tried going to my happy place today. Turns out it’s hard to pinpoint on the myriad of maps I’ve been making since I was 4 years old. I don’t know where to start. I don’t know what counts anymore. Places I once knew to glow yellow from the inside out have dimmed, and most old memories have the scrap of a taint too sharp to touch still attached to them. I have problems with letting go. I find it hard to forget the same way an elephant keeps count of every word anyone’s ever said. You would think this would be an advantage. Sometimes it isn’t. It is hard to try and write new on a slate that was never wiped clean. I have changed. I am envious of everyone able to close the boxes they’ve packed away. Because the lid on mine never seems to fit properly. It is tiring to be responsible for your own hurt every time you have to hold the door shut to stop the past from lingering. Nails ready to dig into the New you’re doing your best to treasure. I think about the temporary nature of all things. How no one is invincible. No one is ever as perfect as we project.  I am not without my flaws or faults. In fact, they have grown bouquets on my sleeves and have built their own corsages on my wrists for when my heart is too heavy to smile for the camera. I think of the “who” rather than the where. The bubbles I have collected with my breath and held with full air in the hopes they don’t burst. Their rainbow undersides and defiance to my gravity while never floating too far away outside my hazy atmosphere. The happy they have given me to make my own. The happy they radiate during visiting hours. The happy that soaks into the knowledge that I sometimes do the same. I am grateful. Always grateful. I may not have bought my house yet but I can always keep renting the flat where the couch is always cosying up to a comfy I am lucky to accommodate. It still smells like warmth and conversations  yet to come once they leave. Until next time. Let yourself in.

Dirt, grass, leaves, rocks, trees.
Looking down at my grubby hands, scuffed up from foraging for a soul.
Light gleams through the branches above, yet my eyes cannot unsee the darkness around me.
Stumbling forward, tripping on the forest ground, searching for meaning in a meaningless land.
My eyes blink, salt and liquid try to blend, but nothing leaves the eyelids as they contort and bend.
After a lifetime of crying alone, my river of tears seems dried to the bone.
Heat subsides while the sun sets, coolness of night begins it's rise from the depths.

I am searching for a love I yet to receive.
I am looking for someone to care about me.
I am searching for someone who loves me as me.
I am looking for my better half.

When we
Meet we
Already know
Each other.

Where do I search? I don't know how.
Looking here and there and in the now.
Grasping for answers I can not understand,
Failing to hear them from my fellow man.
Circles I draw in my mind,
Not seeing the harm it's caused me from behind.
Fires burn and gardens left untended
walls brought down and towers left undefended.
Not understanding why I can't hear the call
too distracted in fighting to hear it at all
Simple answer is to live in the and not ask how,
Searching close to home in the here and now.