Flux

All light is born from the blackness of a sun’s core,
Just like hope is born from despair
Or kindness from the coldest indifference
If just one slight circumstance is changed.

This pattern is no coincidence.

All life must first emerge from death,
And so, all things must eventually die.
There is no real beginning, and no end,

Only a point in time where you stop and

Cease to exist as you are, and become something
That might be lesser than you were, or greater,
But it is the process itself that is of vital importance.

The Illusionist

A woman walks down the street
She looks killer in those heels
Heads turn and eyes burn
Just to catch another glimpse

What do people see when they look at me?

Am I someone that they fear, or who they wish to be?
What do people see when they look at me?
Am I strong, am I weak, or something in between?

Short skirt or black jeans, it doesn’t matter

Motorcycle jacket slung over her shoulder
Drives a Mustang with the top down
Her hair loose in the wind

What do people see when they look at me?

Am I someone that they fear, or who they wish to be?
What do people see when they look at me?
Am I strong, am I weak, or something in between?

Sunglasses on her face, her eyes mysterious

Red lips and nails, no glitter anywhere
Stalks the streets so untouchable
No problem gettin’ a cab

What do people see when they look at me?

Am I someone that they fear, or who they wish to be?
What do people see when they look at me?
Am I strong, am I weak, or something in between?

Am I burned out already?

Can’t seem to move my feet.
Want to push until I shatter,
To soar until I crash down.

But what do people see when they look at me?

Am I someone that they fear, or who they wish to be?
And what do people see when they look at me,
Is she strong, or weak, or something in between?

5.31.2014

“I have only recently become wise enough to look in the mirror and realize that I don’t know the person staring back at me. That is the first step.”

Be Careful

Do not ask me if I’ve ever loved anyone else.
If I have ever been kissed by lips, or touched by hands, that are not your own.

Do not prod me for remembrances from my childhood.

Of who I wanted to become, and all the great feats I wished to accomplish.

Do not tell me of places you have traveled, of the vast wonders you have witnessed.

When you felt free and exultant, and grateful for the sheer pleasure of being alive.

Do not plead with me to share the rest of my life with you.

To hope for a future together, a shared dream, a life forged by two.

Accept that I am here with you now, and that for this moment, we simply are.

Twenty-Eight Syllables

The tears won’t fall.

Instead, this pain sits in my chest.

It’s small, but sharp. I can
Feel the jagged edges cutting deep scars.

The Elephant

It is a potential that we both know will never come to pass.

You and I will never be more than we already are to each other. You belong to someone else. I belong to no one, and never will. What is between us is silent understanding, shared memories, and unconditional support.

We are nothing together, and never have been. But still, the potential lingers. It waits in the periphery of our every interaction. Neglected, but always acknowledged.

We could have been everything together, if only we both weren’t so different, have completely opposite goals in life, not even our beliefs similar.

Yet, we are also very much alike. If we’d tried, we would have been wonderful together before we were torn apart by reality.

Really, it’s fortunate that we never made an attempt. The inevitable failure would have broken us both. We didn’t need to experience that particular pain in order to understand how devastating it would have been.

No, the regret between us is not this decision. We don’t regret refusing to make a choice that could only lead to eternal pain. Our regret is in knowing that we could never work out, and so we didn’t even get the chance to try.

We regret our wisdom that forever left us caught in a potential that will be forever unfulfilled.