I live my life through the words I write
I understand the need to look
for happiness
and that choosing it
is just that: a choice.
Despite this,
I cannot choose it easily
when all I see in front of me
is its opposite.
I settle in on the darkness
it seems,
before I even make a choice.
The darkness chooses for me,
and will not let me go.
You stay through it all
and say you love me.
My mouth knows not what to say,
my ears carefully select what they hear,
my eyes see things that are not there
and my hands remain close to me,
my body all disjointed
and confused.
Still processing
you.
Embrace the space
which has come between us,
growing wider and deeper each day
until now,
our reunion.
Tell me of you, and I’ll you of me,
learning of new and remembering of old
until the space disappears.
Back to the way we were,
two peas back into our pod.
I was lost,
tangled in the seaweed of the deep, dark waters,
praying for a chance
to gasp in oxygen until my lungs burst,
yearning for someone to extend a hand,
until today.
Chase the spaces
that seem too far away,
then observe with wonder
how you can expand
to fill them.
Trying to find the words
I want to say to you,
and nothing but the raw,
honest truth can capture
my thoughts appropriately.
Except,
to say the raw and honest
might destroy both of us.
So instead,
I toss around a few safe and
common words,
but mostly say nothing at all.
I tell myself, ‘it’s better this way’,
but my ruminating thoughts of you
lead me to believe otherwise.
When I wrote about you
I hardly had to think at all.
Words appeared on the paper
as if from nowhere,
or a power higher and stronger than myself.
Flowing like a river downstream
I had no choice but to follow it,
with words to describe you, us,
in hundreds of ways
sweeping me with the current.
I am out of the current now.
There may be peace in calm, cool water
but also discomfort.
I wish not to write of you any longer,
but I cannot find words for anything else.
Words repeated over and over,
laced with pure intention
but lacking follow-up action.
Phrased a dozen different ways,
but all meaning the same:
nothing,
when never acted upon.
Lose the mask, the facade of purity
and good intentions,
it’s time to break this pattern.
Maybe I don’t need to be here or there,
one place or another,
black or white.
There must be shades of grey in between
across the spectrum,
where we can still be together
but get as close to the black and white
as we can
without losing the grey completely.
Maybe I can have pieces of it all
without inflicting self-destruction,
without being all-or-nothing.
Maybe all I need to do is ask.
Please, I ask for your patience
as I chip away slowly at the wall
dividing you from me.
I understand the divide it enforces
because I feel it too,
although most times, I enjoy it.
That’s the problem,
for you despite it.
Keep trying I will,
to knock it down and prevent rebuilding
when I look the other way.
Pull me back from the routine of hustle,
racing against time to optimize productivity,
working fast and diligent
because I am the only one.
Pull me back from the hustle,
make me slow down enough
to have a conversation of leisure
with you.
Remind me of other worthy goals
besides the numbers and dates.
Pull me back to myself
like only you can.
Dawning Words 