The mirror lies.
For most of my life, it’s shown a twisted reality,
a distortion of the me I see
when I close my eyes.
when I see the stranger looking back at me
a breath, a prayer on the wind to let me be
who I know I am
to let the sham fall free
as clear, as pu...
I have to look inside myself to see who I am.
I wasn’t, not really.
Not really intact, not really whole, not really a person. A person feels, but I didn’t.
I didn’t feel because boys don’t get to cry, and sometimes it’s better not to let the tears fall,
because they’ll only cause
Pin me to something and kiss me
over and over like verses of poetry
each kiss an element in the story
Like water; liquid and flowing:
like rain, cool and crisp and clear,
washing away the world’s haze
sweet and refreshing and so very wet;
like snow, still and pure and gen...
Listen. Love is a conversation, though not always with words. Feel the way the air changes when emotions flare - warm and comforting and sensual or cold and thin and bleak - these are reflections of your end of the string, and the cans are only so big.
Speak. Conversations have more than one parti...
My home is a noisy place.
My mind is a noisy place.
My life is a noisy place.
But midnight. Midnight is quiet. Midnight is the peace deep in each of us that is always there, sometimes so deep we forget. Sometimes it takes a peace just as deep to find it again.
Midnight is quiet, but my life...