i don’t know

“my heart is beating fast,” a statement.

“why?” an impossible question.

i could try explaining.

first, i’ll say because i was nervous.

“wait, no,” i’ll hesitate and furrow my brows, looking for a more accurate word.

then,

i’ll correct myself, a moment of triumph as i slurp back the word hanging from the tip of my tongue.

but somehow, in the swirl of my mind,

i’ll feel as if i only gave you a glimpse into the depth of that emotion.

i wasn’t just a synonym for nervous,

i was also hesitant

and oddly excited

and overwhelmed

and… and,

and.

if i knew the words, i’d tell you.

so i’ll make it simple,

“my heart is beating fast,” a statement.

“why?” an impossible question.


“i don’t know,”

the most unsatisfying confession.

 

it’s time to heal.

i need to stop reading

some of my poetry because

what people don’t understand is that the words

typed or written on those pieces of paper

have the power to transport you

back to those moments that you just

want to forget about

or heal from.

how i like my poetry

i don’t like ambiguous poetry.

i like my poetry to be blunt and raw and straight to the point, like how i wish i could be.

no fancy figurative language to cover up the truth leaping off my tongue. just me and the pen. 

that’s how i like my poetry. 

im holding onto you

i’ve been all over the place ever since you walked into my life 

and a part of me is screaming for me to let go of all of this,

and crawl my way back to safe solitude.

but another part of me, which is usually shy and quiet,

is telling me

loud and clear

to hold on and see where these places take me.