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.

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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. 

this is the climb

and when i want to give up,

i think of where i want to be.

i visualize victory and joy and peace

and

take a breath.

i want to be better.

i want more than this.

so i continue to amad,

and stand firm and still.

i’m not giving up this time,

no, not until i see the finish line.

 

 

Mama Said 

she told me to “let it out,”

“it’s okay to cry,” she adds.

all these years, i held it in.

all of it.

a great big ocean swam inside my eyes,

churned and spun in my stomach,

mixing with ugly truth and resentment.

so i let it out.

and it was ugly at first.

my sobs took over my body,

turbulent 

and 

true.

but then,

it was beautiful.

now i understand why a rainbow paints the sky after a dreadful storm.

a smile crept up on me and the pain floated                a w a y.

Unbelievable

unbelievable

how much i have changed.

my covers are clean and sparkle

under the bright lights shining down on me.

and i smile when i go off to sleep

because i know in the morning who i will meet,

so i grab hold of life and air

and roll off the bed with effortless grace.

so much grace,

draped down on me but held light and tender on my shoulders.

what was dirty

and mucky

and horrible

and stunk,

is now white as snow.

white as snow.

nowhere to hide because daybreak is no longer a curtain

and there is no theater or seats or dreadful laughter.

night is light and no longer is there a struggle with

hands to my throat

and grave whispers in my ear.

it is unbelievable

how i have changed,

those voices have come to adore me.