what might have been

Another book devoured
within hours.

The joy I experienced
within Lucy’s world
had me skyrocketing
to corners of imagination
and learning sensations of my body
seldom visited
or experienced.

Living out what-if scenarios
in detail
through until the end,
mirroring the tangents
of my own imagination,
I found someone:
a writer, a character,
who thinks the same way I do.

The emotional journey
I traveled with Lucy
both resembled and outshone
similar journeys I have embarked upon
alone.

Solace and comfort and
inspiration
from a single story
of two possible realities
winding and intertwining
together
messy and imaginative
and meant to be
each in their own right.

Maybe whichever path we choose
is the right one
for us at that specific time.
And maybe
life has a way
of interjecting paths together
even after we think
we have left one behind.

Inspired by the book “What Might Have Been” by Holly Miller

Reading passages over and over

Reading passages
over and over
but not like last time
with that other book
this time
I read the passages
over and over
for the comfort they offer
and sensations they generate
within my body
reminding me
to be vulnerable
to release through art
to create
to let go of perfectionism
to just be
with the people who know me
and even those who don’t
like she did
with the guy who wanted to know her
who didn’t run away
waited for her
until she was tired of hiding
and bared all to him
and they promised
to help each other
no matter how broken
they both feel
because no one is broken.

– Inspired by the book “The Words We Keep” by Erin Stewart

accidents can be beautiful

An accidental, yet dramatic, spill
of water across the floor, the couch,
most of the living room, really,
included pages of notebooks.

Faint stains of pink and purple
enhancing the flavor of tap water
paint over the blank canvases of pages
seemingly waiting, longing, for color.

Pages adorn new textures from the places
wet, then dried.
A crunching sound with every flip
refusing to lay flat,
forever changed.
Does a blank page even exist?

Gift an accident the opportunity to be beautiful.

what the story does to me

Time passes by me
quickly, effortlessly, joyfully.
I barely comprehend where it’s gone
when I look up at the clock
to register the difference in numbers.

That’s what the story does to me.
I enter a new, beautiful world,
a world I created.
I could stay there for hours.

I come alive there. I feel my heart glow.
And when I step away,
I’m counting down the minutes
until I can return.

could this be the beginning of something?

Digging out the key from the depths of my pocket
and opening wide the little metal door
I receive a sign, a symbol,
that something greater waits for me,
something so great it could not live within
this little metal box.

Hand-delivered to me is a cardboard box.
I recognize it instantly.
My heart leaps beyond my rib cage,
my mouth explodes into a smile
and my skin turns hot and clammy
as I take the box in my hands.
A corner is missing, exposing a corner of pages
within: pages I know, and love, and made.
You’re here.

I tear open the box,
gently extracting the stack of papers,
including four new ones written by someone else.
I feel everything.

I feel tears spring from my eyes
at the compliments,
I feel my head nod and mind expand
at the critiques,
I feel a deep exhale escape my mouth
at the suggested path forward,
I feel my heart race and palms sweat
at the positive encouragement.
I feel safe, and calm, and reunited.

I squeeze the stack of papers
close to my chest, just like she did.
This is coming home to myself.