How hard is it to exist in this moment,
comfortable within your own skin?
Balanced between the frightful and the fear.
How hard is it to achieve the impossible,
breaking down unimpressive barriers?
Preparing for a sublime future.
How hard is it to belong to the thoughts,
capturing a grander masterpiece of the mind?
Walking to the drum that beats inside you.
Seeing is believing until you have been deceived,
time will tell when you wish you could still concede.
But all who have been left in the weeds no longer wish to see,
and in the end it is not I who takes the knee.
Those who were too deceived to believe, know that you are not the only one who truly needed to see.
It was a day that cannot be forgotten,
a story that cannot be foretold.
I knew you were coming,
but I didn’t know how it would unfold.
The days were long and slow,
I adjusted to a changing self.
Everyone began to muster around,
knowing that I would help.
The time drew closer,
I realized how nervous I really must be.
The moment arrived and I only did see,
a little tiny replica, a replica of me.
My world stopped for a moment,
to breathe in all that was anew.
Ten fingers, ten toes and big brown eyes,
brought my love all to you.
Not as simple as the mornings past,
quiet as the minds delay.
It never seems to come so fast,
when you patiently wait for the day.
Stagnant, the wind will clear,
only deciding what fate will know
Hearts are often prisoners of fear,
gently gearing to reap what they sow.
Confused why this is what we have to bear,
forthcoming when the air is its calmest.
Anticipation is bright in a section of his glare,
beckoning the one to gaze up on it.
Waking up and speaking of regret. It is a fatal consequence. Regret, in spades, is a figment of the depths of our minds. You should… you didn’t…you think. You remember…you faltered…you live on.
It is only as strong as the will you encompass to keep going. Whether it be to keep a memory alive or to move past a difficult time. We all speak to regret because it signals the inadequacy of the choices we have made. The longing to have done one more thing or made one decision instead of another.
Life will always leave you with a sour taste, if that is the focus. That is why we kiss the ones we love and say next time- even when one might not exist. We say sorry even we feel justified. We cry over spilled milk when the deed is already done.
Because we know that one day we will wake up and speak of regret.
The same conversation,
tiresome, somewhat irritating.
The room closes slightly,
compressing, not heard.
Impressing on your mind,
overlooked and unrealized.
Playing catch up,
a minute or so, even less.
It is amazing that when we think of love, the first thing that pops into our mind is romance. The romance factor can almost seem more important than the actual meaning.
A person can give themselves a new meaning to life with love. Love is much deeper than romance. It is an unwavering support to your being that is unlike any other.
It is greater than lust, more powerful than infatuation and more settling than romance.
It is a true bond between two people. Sharing the forbidden emotions that stem beyond the surface, scratching it deeply to see what more lies beneath.
Letting go of your fears to the one who understands what it means to be fearful. Sharing your doubts about existence with the one who truly has lost their way at some point.
Feeling safe within the arms of the one who will fight for you. The clear understanding that when you share this information it is evident that it fell upon the right ears, not the selfish ones.
Is this your soulmate? Perhaps you have traveled through the centuries- scouting each other. Each one picking up where the other left off. Possibilities do say that when you finally meet them again you unleash your lifetime of hurt within their arms and prepare to walk down the narrow road together.
Sure, that what is next will make you stronger than individuals but as one.