up close & personal

he’s taken my metaphors and similes and alliterations and

everything that has kept my heart concealed.

there’s no hiding around words or potent sentences anymore,

he’s up close and personal.

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umoving

i can’t see clearly right now,

my heads a blur that is not giving my heart any heads up,

and now my heart has fallen into a pit without warning. 

i am not myself,

more like a “stuck in time” version of me,

i am frozen in my fear,

unmoving.

there’s a bulldozer headed my way, they call it dangerous and destructive,

i’ve embraced the scare.

though i’m still scared. 

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.

 

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. 

alien

around me,

i see things you can’t see,

and i wonder why i’m here in the first place.

nothing to truly take in and ponder,

only mouths speaking somewhat of a different language and heads bobbing up and down to each other.

i don’t belong here.

and i think they see it.

or maybe they don’t care to see me,

but they make sure i see them.

in their hands, they hold trinkets and talk about gold cars and places,

in my hands i hold dust and dirt and make them dance in the wind of my imagination.

i am here

and that’s okay,

because i am allowed

to take up space. 

—–

i breathe out. 

i wear you on my sleeves

i wear you on my sleeve, 

because you are all of my emotions

in one.

i’ve told you to leave,

but you just won’t listen.

but i wouldn’t want you to either,

you make me feel alive.

alive in a way that haunts me at night.

when i can’t sleep until i’ve thought of you at least a billion times.

truly, these feelings should not be crawling in my brain.

but they are.