roots
don’t
cast
shadows
musings & scribbles
cleaning up these floors and walls,
trying to build ourselves
a nice place to reside–
a place we’ll want to live in,
but enough room to play outside.
I take pride in being a
minimalist
with a
small wallet,
sanitizer,
keys,
earbuds,
and probably more
I always end up needing
when i’ve left them behind.
gathering what we
viewed as
necessities
only to share them
or toss them out,
now that we know
they were weights
we were waiting
to build us up,
but only buried us.
I want to give you
everything I had and
so much I didn’t.
the way you played
amongst the leaves,
following a path
and stepping off
to be yourself,
that’s all I ever wanted
for you: to be who
you are, who you
are meant to be,
no matter what
I think
or
they think
or
what may
hold you back;
you are you,
and don’t you forget it.
life
time
I
me
us
you
we
I disappoint you often
and don’t know how to stop.
it feels like we just met tonight
and i already fucked it up.
I can try to be better, or
someone you’d like more,
but then I would be hiding,
and that’s not who I am.
I am drowning
in all the
time I waste in
walking by
the little things
that make this
place feel so in-
complete. but
maybe it’s just
me— maybe
it’s just that i’m
not whole yet,
so how could I
complete
anything
else?
I hold these words
on my lungs,
and, while it hurts,
I still try
to talk, but not
by speaking—
instead, I cower
and type, using
keys to lock
myself away in
this machine;
flat,
cold,
reflective,
but not of me.
there was a fly on the sheer curtain,
its feet and belly facing the world outside.
I stood, finishing my chocolate pieces,
appreciating their want to be there.
they fought the vacuum, but stayed
against the panes, so became exhausted.
I carried them to our porch, opened
the canister, and how does one end a sentence with they?