a little note before work, stained in jelly and breadcrumbs
The past few months have been this really incredible, long journey. My eyes have been opened to so many things in such a short period of time that I haven't been able to think clearly (thus, unable to write). This morning, I wrote this, because the idea of our lives is so awe-inspiring to me. To contemplate the fragility of all of our lives is quite chilling, and seeing death on a daily basis isn't aiding in my pursuit to happiness. But it does relieve me of one thing--regret. Knowing that today may be your last day on Earth provides you with the hope that is nearly impossible to find at some points in your life, and this poem is really just a messy conglomerate of pasts, presents, and futures that are woven so intricately that I couldn't resist to spit them out somehow. Thanks for reading :)
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a breath,
a simple pause in the nutmeg wind, a chilling blanket wrapped around my
pale, white ankles, whispering all the poems
I've let in my head
through the back door.
a quiet request, an art form sequestered in the death glow of winter,
proposed by my hands and accepted by
the readers, their eyes all quietly buzzing with an intense yearning,
striving for that one line, that one line that will
knock them out so quickly that they'll
forget all the suffering, forget all the stuttering,
and remember what love is.
to toy with life and death, they say, is to be a god,
but that's just a myth, created by poets
who are too ashamed to reveal their true power
