my ever growing garden

i don’t know who you thought i was

but sadly you are mistaken.

take your dirt from my palms

and create weeds in your own garden.

i am planted firmly in my dwelling

even if some days i weep and let the wind tear the leafs from my stems.

sure enough, my bark is striped with lessons from childhood

and red stained adolescents.

the sky licks and grooms my budding flowers

and sends them winds of relief from the overbearing heat at noon

and

you…

you are not allowed into this sacred place.

your thorns and bent knees that only praise glory and never pain

could never understand the spines of my past that have twisted and turned

to form the heart shaped petals that have wilted

and grown,

wilted and

grown,

wilted and grown

and remained.

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a poet never slumbers

you would think from the amount

of thoughts that cloud my mind during the day,

i’d welcome sleep like a teaspoon of Tylenol to relieve a headache.

but i sit in bed unable to tear my fingers from the keyboard,

unable to turn my mind off and just be.

hold on,

i have just a couple more words to say…

my canvas

sometimes,

i am unsure of who i am.

i paint the canvas of my life with light brush strokes and careful detail.

sometimes,

i become coarse with the paintbrush or give up on the picture altogether

and toss the messy canvas to the side.

i am trying to figure it all out

but until then i am allowed to make mistakes, i am allowed to paint with or without purpose,

i am allowed to get frustrated with my canvas.

the kind robber 

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 wait for Jesus 

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. 

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. 

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.

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. 

“boys will be boys”

i always walk swiftly passed your

watchful eyes.

i can’t stand to be evaluated by those

puny pupils

darting between my face and my body,

lingering too long.

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;

disinterest.

burn.