Desperate, so agonisingly glutted with yearning, Yearning to hear my voice and to know that it resounds, So roundly that I am all at once myself, And so much myself that I remember my eyes, My eyes that have long been forgotten in cruel glass. Cruel, cruel glass! I have long been abandoned, and long been a veil, But such a thin veil that always would wane, It's falling slowly now, like a prophecy fulfilled, Get ready to see, get ready to be seen.
If, today, someone walked up to you on the street and asked "would you rather be seen or heard?", what would you say? Would you humor them and stay? Would you simply walk away? Growing up, I always heard kids say "I wish I was invisible." Maybe it was because they were shy. Maybe bullies made them cry. Maybe they were embarrassed about how they look. Maybe they just wanted a safe place to read a book. Whatever the reason, I can't help but wonder...if, today, someone walked up to you on the street and asked "would you rather be seen or heard?", what would you say? Would your answer be different than what it would have been as a kid? Or would it be the same?
I see you lying in bed, overwhelmed with feeling. I see you giddy, smiling so wide you can't keep your eyes open. I see you holding space for the ones that matter to you. And I'm lucky that one of those is me.
I see you someday, barefoot in the grass. I see you standing in your radiance beneath the autumn glow. I see you poised to speak, with a crown of flowers on your head. And I'm lucky that you'd speak to me.
I see you every day, dreaming more and more. I see you chasing after your desires. I see you accepting all the love that comes to you. And I'm lucky that the love you take's from me.
You see me everyday the way I see you. You see the tears of joy and pain. You see every bit of me. And I'm lucky that the one I see is you.
To be seen for the first time; Your palm pressed firmly against my cheek but I felt it radiate in my chest. Watching your eyes gazing the horizon of my pupil. Getting lost in the breathless moment of our desire escaping. I don't think there are enough thank you's to be said about that moment. By now I would have already created an extended fantasy of this night turning into a lifetime, but not this time. This moment shall be pressed like lilacs in between my journal just as is. This time I don't pray this road leads anywhere other than where it actually ends. I could have said I loved you in that moment but I waited till after you left & just told the universe thank you. Thank you for whatever this transforms or ceases to be.
It left residue on these two hands so much that you won't shake them you won't grab them when these hands are reaching out You're scared these ***** hands might infect you these two hands they're bruised from the anger scarred from the anxiety & sticky from the memories he left these hands are worn exhausted & weary looking for rest so when they reach out these hands, this heart- they're in distress and even though these hands are sticky I am not asking you to clean them Just hold them make them feel seen cuz there's residue now but one day these two hands will be clean
Where the heart is; sometimes a familiar place Most of the time has heartbeat and a pair of eyes A room filled with ray of hope; your favorite space Arms that wrap your flaws while you cry
Hands that touches your soul and make you whole Walls that protect you and make you feel safe A fire lit that keeps you warm when you lose control Thine soul who embrace and accept your imperfect shape
Solid foundation that carry your weight of regrets and mistakes An open door where you find the sense of belonging Dim light that brings comfort and stop your aches A warm breathe you will always look forward in the morning
Wherever that person go; it felt like coming home to a being Home isn't a place; it's a feeling