unfiltered
sharing poems is like
missing a step,
terror and a quick pulse.
i carefully tie together pieces
of my mind,
as honest as i can be,
the worst and best of me.
some days it is about
sunset skies,
pinks, oranges, golds.
the silhouette of a tree
with bare branches.
a lone bird flying by.
other days it is about
the deepest corners
of my heart.
my true desires unveiled
in halting sentences.
poetry is where
i do not hesitate to
be vulnerable.
where i loosen the
armour that guards
so many conversations.
and to let my words
out into the world?
akin to a mother
sending her child
into the grasp of night.
throat choked with fear.
in some sense,
it is freedom.
having art without apology.
without societal shackles.
i restrain the urge
to explain.
because for once,
my words are enough.
for once,
i am enough.
and everything else,
everyone else,
is just white noise.
sharing poems is like
missing a step,
terror and a quick pulse.
but it is also exhilaration.
stepping back from
the edge of a cliff,
wind whipping my hair.
the thrill of knowing
that i have put myself out there.
the satisfaction of knowing
that nothing can touch me now.