PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

sometimes i wish you could go back and read all the words i wrote again

though they are mine, irrevocably,

and i swore the only light to touch them would be from fire,

sometimes i wish you knew me enough to not be afraid

so many words sent to you in surrender

as time goes on i give more and more away

for the acceptance that i own nothing, not even my own body

it gets older and i sense its finite limits

and i realize even more how foolish we are to waste time

doing anything but giving to each other

when we meditate on death we realize the immediacy

we must give to our love

let me leave again and again in order to become more my own

let me pack up only the belongings i need and keep going

the only thing i fear is the date i must return and become part

of a story someone else wrote for me

i know my happiness lies in escaping its plot

i am not a worker, a number, a wife

we are too ethereal for these

even though i am standing up in front of the board

teaching them another lesson

so too am i in the ground with my mother

her mother and her mother

i realize i will be less than a memory

and so i let you go and place myself

on an endless skyline

writing these words and letting them fall back to the ground

they are mine own only and if so

in truth, they are no one's