There is a book on my shelf.
It is worn and tired, my fingers have touched the pages so many times,
I’ve memorized the stories and my heart no longer jumps when I️ read the ending.
Years ago, it felt so fresh and raw.
Tonight I️ wonder when we all grew up.
I️ am thankful for who I️ am now.
I️ am glad you are a part of my bookshelf.
I️ am ready, finally, after all this time, to admit the things I’ve been scared to for so long.
Time heals all wounds.
They say when a door closes a window opens,
I stare out a second floor window on a floor full of exit signs and yet no way out.
Baby steps, I remember, and try to wear a smile and keep my laughter unguarded, protecting my heart.
Maybe I’m not meant to be given a window.
Maybe I’m meant to make my own.
It’s hard to write poems when I am angry
My limbs feel explosive and energy courses through my veins,
My heart beats and I try to lean into it,
Relax my hands when they don’t want to stay still enough for me to hold a pen.
I am always in awe of how my body holds my feelings.
Days Like This
There will be days like this, they say,
Remind me to protect my heart
Use my head.
On a Tuesday in April I claim this sadness, this anger, this hurt.
It is mine to do what I like with it,
Lead with soul over sense,
Let it feed me power to remember,
Who I am.
Things Have Gone Wrong Today
Part of me,
Is wishful thinking,
Is reading into the words,
Is beating heart and wondering,
If it’s my fault.
Time and time again,
I can’t keep my heart from bleeding onto my sleeve.
I wonder when I will be enough.