i am loud
yes, i am very loud
i have been told by many people
to shut up
to stop talking
to quit being so. damn. loud.
it's who i am
i've always been loud.
maybe it's because i was the youngest child
and it was difficult for my voice to be heard if i didn't raise it,
or maybe because in a group of friends
my story was never listened to,
instead it was talked over
so maybe i'm loud
but i'd rather be loud
than never be heard

My voice cries out from forced silence,
Thunderous volume in my ears,
Words preparing to do violence
Against my fear to face my fears.

The times I spoke I have been heard,
But poetry’s not for today.
The world needs action, not a word,
Though I’d prefer to run away.

I wish my writing would suffice
So that I never have to be.
But still, I make this sacrifice
Real life needs the real me.

O silent voice, speak through my pen!
A spirit to articulate!
You will be heard, not if but when!
O voice, it’s you I cultivate!

you
silently
call for me
in the night
and i come
running back in
your arms,
others might say
that i've lost my screws
and that i've got no clue
but i know that
there's nothing better
than loving you,

and i know you feel
this too,
our connection so wild
so free and so powerful,
it makes you sway
i heard last season that
the fall took you away,
you always loved autumn
the best.

and i can't help but imagine
how you would look
if you were still green
as you can be,
but slowly you changed
shade and went orange
but still lovely
because you were the
colors of the autumn sky;
full of shades, yellow,
orange and red.
almost made me wish
that i could change with
you.

it was early in the morning
everyone else was probably
dead asleep,
but i came to you
as i heard your calls
and silently watched
as you turned brown,
the color of lost
and now my
color of love.

now as i paint the canvas
i don't use the green
of your eyes
but i use the brown
of my last sight of you,
the brown of your voice,
the brown of your cries
and the brown of your soul.

Your silence is the only part of you that still speaks to me,
and when I can't hear your voice anymore,
the fog reveals the distances you aren't willing to travel,
what's the point of reaching out to someone who doesn't want to be reached?

Why is it,
That whenever I think of you,
I feel you're thinking of me too?

Why is it,
That when I feel like falling,
You catch me before I can?

Why is it,
That when you look me in the eyes,
I can tell that you're holding back?

Why is it,
That when your voice begins to rise,
My heart just melts instead of matching it?

Why is it,
That when I am around you,
I get butterflies that only I can feel?

Why is it,
That when your voice is spoken aloud,
No one bothers to listen to it?

Why is it,
That you haven't found me yet?
Am I just as lost as you in love's maze?

Why is it,
That I haven't taken one more step,
Walking throughout the path you've shown me?