Whispers in the depth of night
Whites of our eyes shining bright
Lips in movement
Words offer our reality
Conversing in shallow tunes
Touch, leaning into the heat of you
Expressing thoughts; gift to thee
Without fear, fate leads the he and she of our bonding.
When did my confidence go to battle with my insecurities?
Why are they winning?
I know better.
I am better.
I will continue to thrive.
Go. It’s been done before,
I survived.
I would again.
Throwing a temper tantrum would never work.
Waiting patiently gets me nowhere.
Being my quiet self is far too dull.
All that is left is to use my voice, yet, the quiver I hear isn’t very convincing as I try.
Fearing judgment may keep me from the happiness I know I deserve.
Wanting to be a playground, but instead I’ve become too common.
Take what is yours, these words I hear constantly in my head, I used to believe they were meant for me to say to the one who truly wanted me.
Maybe it’s what I’m supposed to do.
Huh, it goes against who I believe I am, but being left alone is too.
too average
too independent
too quiet
too far away
too serious
too cliche
too normal
too she’ll be okay
he shows me beauty
concerned with
acceptance
knows I like pretty
unaware of his own brilliance
music to dance to
and a faith reaching
distance
and he’s meant for someone else,
my fear
This afternoon I drove for awhile, after work, before turning around and heading home. You see, it’s not a far drive from one to the other and I needed to think, so off I traveled.
The last few weeks have had me considering the idea of closing my site down.
Wondering if maybe its time to move on and away from poetry.
I fall hard
but this is what I do.
I imagine long walks,
you pointing out the vision
I see as reality,
but this is what I do.
I picture myself as a flower,
each petal adored, even
in her simplicity,
but this is what I do.
The vast Midwestern skyline
of Nebraska takes me to
where you are daily, and I pray
but this is what I do.
I wander inside of a daydream
where we exist as one,
but this is what I do.
