Once again it's a new year where we become the writer of the book of our lives,
and this time there are 366 blank pages to write in when each and every day arrives.

This is the year that you finally focus on just you -
and concentrate on things that make you euphoric too.
Make your dreams and chase them with passion;
realise you have the power to make them happen.

The stars will align in the sky for you my dear,
and your courage will see you through any fear,
you will be stronger and more carefree,
and be the you that you deserve to be.

the way you shined light into my life made me believe in greater things. I felt you over power any depth the sun could possibly hold. strong enough to clear the rain clouds forming behind my eyelids and bright enough to scare my shadow away.

When your thoughts are too vague and you can't fathom where would your ideas go,
When all you need is to scribble down all those but you're too lazy to do,
When you can't help but deny that your childhood dream is now turning blue,
And when all you've written for almost your lifetime were just mediocre and nonsense clue.

Then stop! Take a break and let your hand wander,
Let it feel a different job aside from painting ink in your paper,
Maybe it needs a little time for itself to discover,
And talk to the Almighty God through prayer.

I have so many words for you
Words of truth
Words that tip toe
to the top of my tongue
plunge themselves into my lap
like folded love notes
I am not too nervous to give it to you
I'm far too nervous that I'll have to take it away
Now I understand why women cry during marriage proposals
The laboring and long suffering of getting to know yourself
then trusting yourself with someone else
is enough to make anyone cry. ❤️

Longing to be a Writer,
a wordsmith of the spirit,
the possibility within my soul,
can I see the ability to really do it.
Aching to grow to become more,
yet so afraid to open my door,
Others will see and make their choice,
Whether or not to hear my voice.

It knocked on my door
the cracked door the guarded
the core of what I call home

I have glued it so many times
sometimes with cheap adhesive
others, I thought I'd be artsy
and used gold
maybe something broken can be beautiful
or so I thought

It was cold outside
do you think that's why it knocked?
It wanted some sanctuary some ****** heat?

It knocked with all its might
I was alone inside, enjoying my aloneness
with glue, sticking together the remains
of time

"Go away"
I screamed, I knew who it was
the door was shaking with every pound
the core of this chamber was vibrating
rippling fear, well it's not fear per say
but something I've felt before
something familiar

"I don't want you here"
I yelled it the same way
I'd say it to a returning lover
******* and your doings

The wind blew and blew
and the pounding escalated
so did my screams

I can foretell what it wants
from the pounding
I can feel it again  
just like how a song can ignite
feelings from the past
just like a cologne can time travel you
to that moment, on that street
I know what it wants

Suddenly the pounding stopped
so did the nostalgia trip
I came back to reality
with a glue stick in my hand
and a shard of glass in the other
"caution fragile pieces can cause bleeding"

My mind was not completely at peace
curiosity kicked in, OH LORD IT DID
I jolted to the door
and peeked from the peep hole
there it was, in a raincoat
standing there, looking back at me

Frantic, I felt my knees weaken
the mind sparked some logic
but the heart, that stupid heart
embraced everything else

"Let me in
I miss my home, I miss the warmth
I can see that you glued the door
the one I jolted from
the one I cracked and broke"

I was scared, it was fear this time
mixed with bits and pieces of adrenaline
"I know this feeling, I know it"
I recounted in my head, making sure
it was engraved in my thoughts

"but if I do, it's different now
this house is no longer a home
it's cushioned with protection
glued with experience
decorated with time
and fortified by mental rationale"

It knocked again
like an angry lover
aching to touch his woman again
like an insane human
coming off of his prozac

"It's time, you're rotting
from the inside, I know your beauty is eternal
but it's time you let me in"

Tears ran down my cheeks
I do miss the feeling
of sweaty palms, of butterflies
that feeling of fading into one
of smiling, of pausing time

But I do know that if I open that door
I will be the
person
to throw him out again
breaking
my cracked door
starting from scratch

What do you think?
Should I let him in
this
time
around?

or shall I wait
for the person
who comes jolting through
burning my door with passion
surprising
my core?

I'm still learning how to fill my body.
Let alone the universe
What kind of space do I take up?
Not enough.
The answer is always "not enough".
On the couch I curl my body
Until I'm camouflage.
I sleep alone on my bed
Leaving room for entire cities
I walk down busy streets
Dodging bodies and buildings
Like I might ignite them.
My voice is a cracked window
Down the street from my soul.
In bright rooms
I dance in shades of black and white
With feet that don't quite fill my shoes.
Yet my poems use the reddest colors of the solar system
On pages too small for my pen