I liked connecting the dots when I was younger—
drawing a line from dot to dot to make the picture.
My tongue between my teeth, with concentration traced on my face
as I connected the dots to make the picture.

I still like connecting the dots.
But now, I’m trying to make the picture of who I am now—
why I am the way I am now.
Connecting the dots to find out what happened
to the old me—the hopeful me, the happy me.

Connecting the dots to find the events that led up
to this different person I’ve become,
connecting the dots to make the picture of me now, inside and out.

I’ve connected the dots.
There is no picture—just a jumble of lines
leading in no clear direction, passing over each other, and lines cut off, just one massive knot of confusion.

So, with my tongue between my teeth
and concentration traced on my face,
I’m trying to make a new picture.
No dots, no lines—just me,
making the best new me I can.

I looked into her Eyes full of sparkle and wonder her mind so full of possibilities and love It spills out all around her. A me from before the world took my voice and crushed me. I promised her the world with one foot outside of her pink polka dot room full of innocence.

With every step I took the air grew colder and my words grew teeth.
I used to hear her cry
Begging me to stop
that I can come back
“there’s beauty in being soft”
enjoy the thunderstorm as it passes
Even with all the damage that it leaves together, We can find the beauty in the rain its smell the refreshment of the cold breeze.

But she doesn't know she is safe in that room because I locked the door and boarded up the windows.
they told me she is too soft.
The world is too cruel for her to be safe.
Her skin bleeds when it hits the outside air. Just pain comes when she is out, and there is no beauty in pain, only suffering.

Her words have become white noise as I wander this condemned house alone. I almost missed... I almost missed “When is the last time you took a moment to look outside?” Barely a whisper on the other side of my childhood door, which caught me off guard because they were never whispered before. She always roared. I'm hit with the crushing realization. Oh no, what have I done to her.  

I stole her voice in trying to keep it for me. Lost in this never ending mazes of who I’m suppose to be.

Her words slowly grow louder, almost as if all she needs is to be seen.
“The storm is gone now, and the birds have began to sing.”
Her words grow bolder as if she finally found her way to be free.
“You abandoned both of us for the sake of me, but the storm has passed, and I promise if you just listen, you can hear the birds sing.” Somehow her hand finds mine on the other side of the door-a connection we have both been searching for.
For the first time I could hear the little birds, even if far off and faint.
“Let me out, unlock this door, and maybe after all this time we can find what we have been searching for”
in that moment I swear I can hear the bird that sings of hope sitting just outside the front door
Wondering if this the moment we have been waiting for to rip this house down board by board.
Rebuilding together to be so much more.

A tickle on the back of my neck,
the hairs on end,
the grip on my heart,
the butterflies in my stomach,
the knots within;
telling me,
You are the one.

A glimpse in the periphery,
a shadow in the corner,
the warmth of breath,
the scent on the wind;
telling me,
You are near.

Moist lips upon mine,
a lingering taste,
a familiarity,
an intensity in my heart,
the rhythm deafening;
telling me,
I am in love.

The world shifts,
a kaleidoscope of senses,
a sudden clarity.

The ordinary becomes extraordinary,
the mundane, magic.

A silent understanding,
a language spoken without words,
a connection forged in the depths.

The pull of gravity,
a force undeniable,
a surrender to the inevitable.

A dance of souls,
a symphony of emotions,
a tapestry woven with light.

The fear,
the vulnerability,
the exquisite joy.

A fragile bloom,
a delicate unfolding,
a revelation.

The world fades away,
only you remain,
a beacon in the darkness.

A whisper of destiny,
a promise unspoken,
a truth revealed.

The heart recognizes its home,
the soul finds its counterpart,
the journey begins.

A moment suspended in time,
an eternity captured in a glance,
a love discovered.

I don’t remember the moment I stopped feeling safe.  
Maybe it was when I saw my mother’s tears  
And realized love could be cruel.  
Maybe it was when I learned to run,  
To hide in silence,  
To hold my breath until the storm passed.  
But I was just a kid,  
And love wasn’t meant to be this way.

I remember finding things I didn’t understand…
Images that twisted my thoughts,  
Made me question what it all meant.  
I was maybe 10,
But I wasn’t a child anymore,  
Not after that.

Then came the quiet,  
A new home with grandma,  
Where the chaos slowed,  
And the world felt a little softer.  
Years later you moved in across the street,  
And suddenly, I wasn’t alone.  
We stayed up late,  
Talking like we could create a new life,  
A different world where love didn’t hurt.

I gave you all the parts of me  
That no one else could see,  
Believing in the illusion  
That you could be the one to save me.  
You made me feel safe,  
For a while.  
You were my first true love,
My safe haven,
And I dove in without looking back.

But you were a storm too.  
You left- then came back,  
And I let you, Every time.  
Chasing the feeling of being wanted,  
Of being enough.  
I let you break me  
And still, I waited for you to come back whole.  But you didn’t.

You moved on,  
Married, had kids,  
And I was still stuck in the memories,  
In the dream we never got to live.  
Then the call came,  
And my world stopped.  
You tried to end your life,  
I thought I could save you if I had enough time,
That I could bring you back from the edge.  
But they took you off life support…
And you were gone.  
And I was left,  
Empty,  
With a heart full of things I never said.

It’s been years now,  
And I’ve built a life,  
Found love in places I never expected,  
But your absence still lingers.  
Your face fades,
but your memory doesn’t,  
And I still miss you,  
In ways I can’t explain.  
I forgive you,  
For all the hurt,  
For leaving me broken,  
But I’ll never forget you,  
Not ever.

they say that this is the best time of your life
to explore
but I have been there and been dissatisfied
rolling hills
misty mornings beneath the dew of trees
paved roads
a highway hitch and a stranger to talk to
time passes
I am home now but remember
only pieces
existing and fading in memory

NOT AN EASY PATH LEADS TO ME

I’M THE WORD THAT MOVES THE MOUTH
I’M THE EYE THAT MELTS INTO DEW AT THE FACE ON THE LEVEL OF A TRAIN WINDOW PASSING WATERFALLS AND CEMETERIES
I’M THE PALM THAT TREMBLES WHILE PICKING A FLOWER
I’M THE BREEZE THAT BREAKS INTO A HEAT
I’M THE CURVED MIRROR ON THE SURFACE OF A LAKE
I’M THE AIR THAT STANDS STILL
I’M THE NOTE SLIPPING FROM UNDER THE HAND OF GOD
I’M THE ROADSIDE COVERED WITH THE TRACES OF PILGRIMS
AND SHARDS OF THEIR NAMES
I’M THE FLAME MEETING WATER FOR THE FIRST TIME
I’M THE PIECE OF A SECOND IN THE WORLD’S HOUR
I’M THE SENTENCE THAT BEGINS WITH A FULL STOP
I’M A HUMAN AWAITING A HUMAN
(WHO MUST APPEAR TO THEIR OWN SELF)

You never knew me before,
And you probably won’t care much afterward.
Nobody probably wants to hear what I have to say,
But just in case…

Am I good enough?
If I am then why don’t I feel like it at all?
Is feeling unworthy just another facet of existence?
Is a lack of self-worth just another problem to persist through?

I’ve always kept to myself.
Tried to hide the innermost parts of me,
Well protected by a wall.
That way, I keep myself safe.
But is it really safe?

Maybe I am too hard to get to know.
So people don’t even bother trying anymore.
Maybe that’s my own fault,
I wonder about that a lot.
Every now and then a person slips through the cracks,
And if I’m lucky I gain a new friend.
I’ve never had the best luck.
So I keep most people at a “safe” distance.
I don’t mind being alone,
But I hate feeling lonely.

I think I have a pretty boring personality,
After all, being smart isn’t a trait people adore.
Maybe that’s another problem with me.
Add it to the list.

Sometimes I wonder what my friends see in me.
I worry constantly about how I’m seen.
I feel so unworthy, for how lucky I’ve been.
Am I worthy?
After all, they had to try real hard to get me to do anything.
Is that someone they really want to be around?
My anxiety, it cripples me.
Sometimes I wish that it wasn’t so loud.

Sitting in the background of a classroom,
Makes me wonder if my presence changes a thing.
If I was gone, sick for a day, would anyone notice or say anything?
Probably not they have better things to do.
Maybe I am just a narcissist, add that to the list too.

Will anyone ever truly understand me?
Will I just be another person cast aside?
Will I just be forgotten?
Who can say?

Maybe I am just too sensitive,
Though I try to not let what people say affect me.
“Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.”
All lies to mask the pain.
Words hurt.
People couldn’t care less.

They say just to be yourself,
But what if yourself isn’t what is popular or wanted.
How long till the loneliness sinks in?
Perhaps it’s all just a big misunderstanding.
Maybe I should try being more open.

Always wondering, what do I not have that others do?
What makes me so mediocre?
Why can my friends be more social than I am?
What skills do they have that I don’t?
Why do I always feel so awkward?
Why do I always feel out of place?
Why do I always feel so lost?

There are things that I would love to say.
Certain words that would brighten up my day.
To someone I adore.
The effects those words may have would cause too much change.
So I’ll bite my tongue as I always do.
Pray and hope that the feeling washes through.

The overthinking mind is a blessing and a curse.
Creates so many fictitious scenarios.
All unnecessary, all compulsively,
No point in trying to stop it.
Anxiety doesn’t help the picture,
Always wondering if I’ve made a mistake.
Always fearing that I’ve pushed someone away.
Always thinking about what people think.
Always hating why I feel this way.

I don’t think I look the best.
I’d rate myself a four to a six out of ten.
Maybe that’s a bit too harsh.
Or maybe that’s a bit too nice.

The future is a scary thing.
Fearing I’ll lose everything.
Will I amount to anything?
Or will I be nothing?
Time will tell.
I’ll dread it until,
The future becomes the past.

I’ve grown scared to look people in the eye.
Silly, I know, but it's become a slight phobia of mine.
I look up, down, everywhere around,
Except in the eyes.
I’m trying to get better,
All I can do is try.

Everyday is about the same.
Prepare your mask to hide the pain.
Don’t let the dam break away.
Just smile and wave.
Am I okay?

Am I good enough?
Or are my friends just crazy?
Am I a good friend?
Or are my feelings going hazy?
Am I interesting at all?
Or is my perception of myself just flawed?
Should I feel proud?
Or should I just create a shroud?
Is the real me worth seeing?
I don’t know
I don’t know…

You didn’t know me before,
You probably still don’t know now.
Maybe though, you’d like to know.
That in this moment,
This specific moment,
That I’m writing this,
Or technically typing this,
I feel good enough.
Not because anybody told me.
Instead I told myself,
And I believe.
So maybe just maybe,
I am good enough…