he wants to know what’s behind the door of my most caged in thoughts,
sound the alarm!
he’s gotten in.
my heart is no longer a secure vault,
it’s security system has been temporarily disarmed,
and i allow him to linger.
i don’t wish to keep those doors shut,
instead, i want to be somewhat of an open book so he can take his time reading the drawn out tales and lullabies,
get to know me.
and i go crazy over the unraveling of our minds,
i crave his intellect and introspect just as much as he craves mine.
so i guess i can’t blame him for opening doors that have been sealed for ages,
he’s curious about what’s inside.
and i’m curious to know what he will think of what is left to salvage.
i’ve been sinking on the low,
cradling my broken pieces in between bent arms,
trying to figure out what i’m going to do with them.
but i forgot that i didn’t have to figure it out alone,
because along with the puzzle, my heart was a riddle Einstein wouldn’t have the brains to solve.
i forgot who went before me,
followed behind me,
and in desperate times, carried me.
He knows my heart and has solved the riddle ages ago,
now we are both waiting:
i wait for him to show me what my eyes cannot see
he waits for me to realize that he is all that i need.
i wait for Jesus.
let me see Jesus.
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,
there’s a bulldozer headed my way, they call it dangerous and destructive,
i’ve embraced the scare.
though i’m still scared.
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.
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.
it is my responsibility to teach
my parents what their parents
neglected to tell them or didn’t know themselves.
i always walk swiftly passed your
i can’t stand to be evaluated by those
darting between my face and my body, something tells me you’re not interested in my intellect.
you never speak,
you just watch and then continue with whatever had your attention before i walked swiftly by.
i remember your face,