yes, I'm a poet
and I'm proud of it too
but reality sinks in letting me wallow in self-pity
I'll always be the poet
never a poem
I'll write about their eyes
their laugh
their perfect imperfections
but no one will capture my laugh
my smile
my beautiful flaws
I will always be a poet
but never a poem
I will write about beauty and grace
about love and heartache
but no one will turn me into a poem
I am stuck giving people words
and never getting any in return

We always search for meaning.
We always ask for reasons why things happen.
But we can never seem to agree.
What if that's because meaning is an extension of our perspective?
They say beauty is In the eye of the beholder. What if we considered meaning the same way?

I lie
and
I lie
and
I lie

I hide my behavior
to keep you safe.

I keep quiet
not to offend you.

I agree with you
to keep you happy.

I walk on eggshells
for you and
it’s never enough.

I lie
and
I lie
and
I lie

but when the truth
arrives at that
final moment;

jaws will drop
plates will shatter
dogs will growl

and
you’ll be long gone
after seeing what
a ghastly beast
I am

but for now

I lie
and
I lie
and
I lie

to keep us
together.

Attempting new
Creative endeavors
Reluctant at first,
Old habits fear change
Steadily pushing to prove
To myself
I
Can grow

©2025