The music of your laughter is color returning to the world; it is springtime after the longest winter.
Tag: poetic
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A picture can paint
1000 words
but it can obscure
1000 more.
Snapshots of old,
you are an iceberg.
How you deceive me!
To be that beautiful again,
I don’t know if I ever will be,
if I were to look
only skin deep.
How a glow
can obscure darkness.
How weight loss
can mask a heaviness
in the soul.
Surrounded by people
but utterly alone.
Traded real warmth
to be “hot”–
but how cold
did I feel.
Why did I think
I’d cure the hunger
in my heart
by starving myself?
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To be truly seen: that which we both long for and fear the most.
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The funny thing about the terrifying ordeal of letting yourself be truly known is that there is no real love without it; and yet, we grow so convinced that the love which we so desperately crave would only elude us even more if we were to simply be seen.
It goes something like “All I want is to be loved; but if you were to really know me, you wouldn’t love me.”
All the unlovable and broken bits. The parts of me that desperately need love the most are the parts I cannot show you for fear of you leaving.
Yeah. Something like that.
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yeah, yeah, yeah,
silent on the home front,
the familial mute.
My journal had ears,
you all just had mouths.
Ask me what’s wrong
then talk over me–
I tell you what’s wrong
you tell me
why I’m wrong.
The quiet one;
I learned speaking
and not speaking,
they were the same,
I’d be just as heard
either way.
Or maybe
you all had such thick armor
I had to throw a dagger to be known.
but I never wanted to join the war,
never wanted to join the war.
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I can’t stop
won’t stop
writing poetry.
Not when I lived my entire life
with someone else’s hand clasped over my mouth.
I’ve got to use my voice,
if just to know I still have it.
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truth is a lit cigarette flicked onto a dry mountainside
set the world ablaze.
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So many ways to say I love you. I choke on the words. Please, please tell me you can see it in my eyes. Tell me you can feel it in my hands. Tell me you can hear it in my heartbeat when your head’s on my chest.
This strange effect you have on me. I’ve hardened myself to the world… but with you, my gaze softens. You melt the ice in my tone, you make me pour forth warmth I didn’t know existed within me.
There are daggers in my eyes by default. One look at you and they’re lowered.
THE CLOSET MYSTIC 