Tag: life

Paper Planes

Breathing is like pen to paper—like a paper plane flying with writing hidden inside a single page—

Who will get the last say?

Who will find the message left behind?

Maybe it will land in the water and become a boat holding all the hope an entire ocean can hold—

Maybe it will go its own way on a journey to a new place.

Maybe it will find me someday.

People Need a Melody

I feel weight on my body,

But my mind is awake and waiting.

 

I feel hope.

Small, but it grows and makes each step lighter—

Like I’m lighting a fire

And searching for the spark that’s starts a flame—

 

I will wait.

 

I don’t want to sink into this feeling I have —

I want to bring the present to my past.

 

I’ve lived in the past long enough that it’s touched

The parts of me living in the now—

Not then, not at the end, but give me a beginning I can touch.

 

I want to feel loved.

I’m Back

What happened to me?

 

When did I decide to give up my soul for a copy?

Copying words and phrases that match the people standing next to me—

And when did I stop myself from being?

 

I can’t think of a moment when I put my wants above someone else—

So I’m reminded that I’ve forgotten how to see myself.

And everything around me seems so grey

That I don’t even know if my likes are mine,

Or just another way

I’ve conformed to find commonality with others.

 

Now I’ve become the stranger. 

 

I look at my image and see pieces thrown together from

other places, other faces,

almost looking natural, 

But something doesn’t add up.

I don’t add up. Not in this way.

 

Because I’m constantly giving and taking away from who I am—

Giving into demands,

Giving up on my plans,

Taking on image after image hoping that they will fit me,

But this is not living.

 

I need to be comfortable in my own skin, so I am choosing myself this time.

I choose to listen to folky tunes blaring from my stereos, no headphones 

 

I choose the place with country food, like cornbread and tomatoes from home.

 

I choose to continue to write down my experiences and speak with honesty,

Connecting my wants and dreams with no apologies.

 

I choose to love the person I can be when no one else  is watching,

 

And I choose to break down each piece I took on in hopes that someone would accept me.

 

I choose to be.

 

I’m scared of the thought of someone seeing me, but it scares me more to lose myself completely, 

So I will stop and listen to the voice inside of me—

 

I choose me.

Messy

I am a mess.

 

My mind stops working and my words start falling

Out of my mouth like the clumsy ramblings

Of a middle school girl who doesn’t know

How to talk to boys yet.

 

I feel the corners of my mouth move involuntarily

When I look at you and see you smile.

Fire brushes my fingers when I touch your hair

Or hold your hand

And feel warmth creep up my body,

But I know I am holding onto borrowed time.

 

I am used to being the one leaving–

Jumping from state to state like a nomad

With no sense of place,

But my movement hits pause while yours hits play in a new city,

And I am met with this restless uncertainty

That settles over me as days grow shorter, nights longer,

And sleep fades away.

 

I don’t want you to fade, so I’ll keep my eyes open

And concentrate on the soft lines of your face

And the crooked way your mouth grins

As if you’re up to something.

 

I’ll trace my fingers over the parts of you

That give me warmth, comfort,

And a space to fit my body in some part of the living.

 

I’m going to miss walking with you while the city falls silent

Beneath old stone buildings and bell towers.

 

I’ll miss the ramen noodles with karaoke

And late night movies that went on for hours.

 

I’ll miss this span of time between the spaces of your fingers,

but I like this piece I get to have for now.

 

And when now turns into then,

I’ll remember the moments

When I listened to your voice in a city asleep.

 

Just Existing

Everyday I ask myself,

“What am I doing with my life?”

And sometimes… I feel fear when the words escape my mouth–

Like they are running into the unknown,

Quickly being ripped away from me

Without giving an answer to the emptiness I am left with.

I meet a crisis everyday.

I ask myself when this anxious feeling will end

So I can begin again,

But I haven’t found the solace yet.

I haven’t discovered relief from the questions.

Today I ask myself,

“Am I a part of the living, or am I closer to death?”