music in my head

you know those songs that linger with you throughout the day

because they meant something when you didn’t have the words to say it?

those are my favorite songs,

they are my voice.

reality is much nicer when i have this music in my head,

it’s much softer and understanding.

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the heart wants what it wants // good or bad

when you shouldn’t want them

that’s when you realize how

the brain and heart work.

you can count on your brain to

rationalize and count on your heart to

make the moves,

good or bad.

but, please beware.

if you move too recklessly, you’ll give yourself a headache and a heartbreak.

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.

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.

i am not what you expect// maybe i am not what you want

i am not your cup of tea,

i’m too sweet.

i am not your cup of coffee,

i’m too bitter.

be careful when you sip,

i’m a mouthful.

i am not intriguing.

i am not different.

i am only i

and sometimes,

i think that is unfortunate.

other times,

i think i am an acquired taste

that only the ones who drink to the bottom deserve to know.