Leaving

 *Fill Up my Heart with 

                                          ancient TIMES   and   

                  Lost   goodbyes,

                                    *Please wait on my reminiscent sorrow. 

*Dont Forget 

            to grab your bags,                          

                                                 put out  OUR TRASH 

                         & call a cab-

Cause the morning's but a night away, Love;

                                                     *And tomorrow's gonna come too soon. 

                                                                                     

Perfectly Undescribed

Ink Prints LEFT UPON MY HEART-

             Please   COME   ERASE these Burnt out memories. 

*And don't forget to wake me in the morning. 

Autobiography

My name is Beautiful. 

I come from believers in ancient star gazing. 

I love to pretend. 

Souls are always worth dying for, and make believe is my reality. 

Sometimes I break in midnights relived. 

The comfort comes knowing the crying stops with the rise of the morning sun. 

Light has power not only in sunshine, and smiles brighten eyes to my core. 

But despite all things left unsaid, I know truth lies in uncertainty. 

And though I'm bound to my convictions-

Still your name is *Beautiful. 

Summertime Realizations

Summertime has never traveled so fast as in the sticky Southern air. Anxiety begins to haunt me as the end draws nearer, reaching into the back of my mind, whispering lies of perpetual doubt. Who will I be when our time runs out?

Summer is the real me. The cold long winters bring confusion of souls, and I lose all sense of myself in the frigid months of darkness. But as warmth lingers in the background- as heat finds its place again- I wave hello to the girl I know so well and we embrace with surrender and find our place. And I smile with radiant life: For I've found myself again. 

So as the cool months loom in the crevices of Summer, I find myself wondering... Who will I be this side of the seasons? Can this time be different? Will I somehow manage to keep hold of my summer self, despite the grasp of winter's tightening fist? 

And what about you... 

-oh, you... 

Will I see your face again? 'Cause I'm awful scared when it comes to this matter of Faith. For if I'm only honest, that's what truly makes me myself: *my identity in you. 

Yes, sad as it may be... 

But for now I must not worry... Even though it's all a loser's game as I wait on this porch basking in July's unhealthy sun- Still savoring each and every day. 

Falling

PART I


Falling Up. 
Backwards- Sideways. 
Original context brings submerged feelings to the epicenter of my surface. 
Realzing my precious soul scars easily-
Learning intricate life lessons on one long seemingly meaningless journey.
So hurry now, before I'm gone. 
Before I finally notice -
These bruises left on the inside. 


PART II 


Falling Up.
Somehow I find myself dancing in our midnight clouds 
as this misty condensation trickles down my sinking skin. 
Air suffocates my silent scream as I watch life itself vanish into remote vastness.
This is not the way I pictured it. Never in a million years would I have guessed you would be the cause of this lonely contradiction. 


But look at me now. 
Here I am. 


Just *Falling Up. 

Flying

Create me in color. 

Soar across my life and teach me how to dance. 

Learn in me the ability to love with arms wide open. 

Laugh in my vivacious youth.

Trace my heart in distant air and sing me the soft lullaby of your vibrant life. 

Follow me through ornate lies.

I never imagined falling could feel so good. 

But look at me-

**I'm flying. 

Avoiding

I'm avoiding, I know. Please don't remind me. And don't think I haven't already noticed. 

Isn't it strange though? How the  words that flow through my blood stream beating my heart with every breath seem to fail me now? How the very thing that fuels my existence, the raving passion that swims in the depths of the oceans of my soul is suddenly: 

GONE? 

....Why?

I am a writer, this I am sure of. This isn't just something I know- It's something increpted in my DNA. It's been bound within my weaving chromosomes and branded into my heart- It is my Home. That it chooses to fail me now only causes me to question my motives. Am I too exhausted to write? Has inspiration gone on vacation? Do I need to take a break myself? 

Then, the dreaded, ghastly, but unfortunately inevitable question:

Do I even want to write?? 

GASP!!! 

Of the answer to this I am sure- Absolutely. I wouldn't be doing all this over analyzing if I weren't positively sure. Which leads me to another point:

**When has over analyzing ever gotten anyone anywhere?? 

Answer: NEVER.

So then what the heck am I doing!?!? And how do I STOP!?

But then I hear your voice: Let it be. 

And suddenly, it's as simple as that. I've realized what it takes. And I breathe.

 Put down the pen. Empty the trash can of my wasted paper. Throw open the windows. 

*And know that I am free.