Poetry
I just wanted to feel
and maybe get felt up
I just wanted something new
a man that gives a fuck.
“Stop! What are you doing? Didn’t you see the sign!?”
I did not, could not.
I was walking.
A scar remains
where I freed myself from you.
While you hunted for my heart
I hid in the woods of my soul.
My words are not always words. Sometimes they are sounds. Hmm. Rrr. Rah! When I find myself feeling feelings so intensely this is how I communicate. Guttural. Staccato. Loud.
I want to leave.
I want to run –– fast and far away.
I want to scream, Come back to me!
when I visit you in that place.
Unsafe. I feel unsafe
and bury under
the covers of my bed.
Who is he yelling at?
Do they feel unsafe?
To talk about trees is to talk about life. As a child, trees watched over me as I slept, painted on my bedroom walls by my father. The trees had little eyes peeking out and elves nestled inside.
What would it be like to have faith in yourself? Your intuition a resource. Your conviction unflawed. Inner guideposts illuminated. Instructions in legible font.