p i e c e s

Being all of myself, that’s just not something I do.

I let my ambitions ride on magic carpets to places I don’t know. I let my heart stay with the people I love and have loved. I let my ideas float around me just beyond my full grasp.

If you call it reckless, if you call it susceptible, if you call it foolish, you’re right.

I am that.

But if I can get to a place I can’t imagine yet, then I’ll let myself fly to get there.

If vulnerability is what my core is made of, then my heart is not meant just for me.

If when I look out of myself and am able to see pieces, well I know I have something to make.

I am not whole.

I am places, people, and things.

Feeling at peace with myself is feeling alive in what I dedicate my life to, in the things that I feel worthy, and in the people who I choose to care about. My feeling of belonging, of happiness, of identity, comes from not only the pieces of me I decide to walk in, but also the pieces of me that I let free.

You hope it isn’t you

I’d hate to burst your bubble so let me elevate you to a level of understanding.

You’re so quick to the tongue that your teeth are in the way for words to find a landing.

 

You are a tie-dye kept together with the rubber bands of someone else’s bindings.

 

You spit out words of a person before.

It’s so quick that you don’t even notice their reflection in your mirror.

 

I bet that rotten taste in your mouth

is left over from when you went south.

 

You have your bubble and world of mime.

Let’s play bumper cars, I know I’ll have a good time.