Now that you are here
Come with me and be my dear
I shall have no fear

i have let my life pass
me by without asking for a
                                                    stop.
the bus —
crowded with hardened men
crying, helpless children
laughing, graceful women
drifting — doesn’t
                                                    stop.­
every light glimmers by—green—
illuminating my path to growth,
but my red hair
red blood
red heart
ignite the invite to
                                                    stop.

so i pull the cord
i interrupt the glares
i stumble out of the bustling confusion
i light onto solid ground

and i, beamingly,
ask myself if this is a
                                                    stop
                                                               or
a start

‘
            Leaves grow out of the very places
                        they have  f      from.
                                             a
                                           l
                                              l
                                           e
                                               n

Dawn
The routine
Awake to a standing pause
Before the wheel turns again
Beans break the seal
The fresh start of a new day
Slowly grinding into movement
This disturbance is accepted
Its purpose is measured
Against the quiet peace
Deep berry-breathing oils the wheel
Pale orange rays soothe the stiffness
Inhale everything
Milled dewdrops drip comfort
Share the moment with an old friend
You
No words needed
Just a nod between turns


© 2019 MJL

I will stand on the beach with my feet buried in the cold sand, a few cuts never hurt anyone.
When I look out at the crashing waves my eyes fixed on the blue I start to walk
I walk until my legs are pins and needles until the clothes on my back washes away and I am nothing more that the sum of my parts,
A beating heart
Speckled skin
My tears turn to pearls.
I walk until water becomes air and suddenly the cold doesn’t bother me anymore.
I want to keep walking until water fills my brain and washes me away.
I think to myself today feels like a good day to cross the ocean,
Today feels like a good day to leave it all behind.

i stopped writing.

not because i don’t want to.

it’s because i couldn’t.

i couldn’t bear the fact that i would have to feel pain and sadness all over again to write something only a few people would understand.

i couldn’t find the exact words. the right sentence. the perfect way to say the emotion i want to show, ending up saying more than the thought itself.

i couldn’t face an empty screen with the line continuously blinking as if begging me to release the letters out of it — teasing it constantly knowing i would just stare at it and close my phone afterwards.

i couldn’t find the right moment to write. and when i thought it was, i just end up thinking about all my “i couldn’t”s never finishing anything i write.

it’s so easy to say, “just write. it’ll come to you soon enough” but little do those people know it’s as hard as it gets.

one day, i write something amazing. amazing to me at least. and the next day, you don’t write anything at all — scared to create a new one that’ll forget the existence of the previous one.

i stopped writing.

but i keep imagining.

writing on my head but never putting them into words. locking them up as safe as possible inside my head where only i could reach. only i could appreciate. only i could admire.

i keep them.

and if one day,

if i get the strength to stop saying “i couldn’t”

i know it’ll all make sense.

but for now,

i’ll have to stop writing.