Just My Perspective...
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Secrets
Secrets. We all have them, we all keep them, we all love them. I love them. The way I can wrap myself in them like a blanket, cocooning myself in warmth. Sometimes it’s ice. Not just my secrets, but the secrets of others. Things they tell me, things I find out about them. Terrible things. Wicked things. Splendid things. And inside my head they remain, cataloged by the thousands. They get packed in, one on top of the other, things I’m not supposed to know, things you don’t think I know. Some you confide in me, and others you don’t. Oh, but I know. It’s all here in my head. You mean to say one thing, but you’ve said something completely different, and I’ve captured it. So much more is revealed than intended, and it’s wonderful. Sometimes they want to spill out of my lips, but I quickly bite them back. Maybe for you, or maybe for me, but they never get told. I may be conceited enough to want to be the sole owner of some things, or I may be so caring that I want to hurt no one. So I let you live your life thinking I don’t know so you can have your sense of security, and I’ll carry on pretending to know only what you’d like for me to know, and like this we’ll coexist. And this is life as we know it.
Careful now, I’m not sure you meant to tell me that.
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Picture Taking
I wish I had taken more pictures back in High School. Pictures with my friends, just hanging out, having a good time. I regret it now. I really regret it. I was always one for living in the moment, who needs pictures? I always thought it to be a bit shallow, vain even, but now, I wish I had physical proof of a life well lived. I had a great solid group of friends. We always had each others backs. We never had a falling out. We stuck it through together through all of the good and the bad. None of my friends were picture takers. Not one. I don’t think any of us has a substantial amount of pictures from parties, dances, trips, or anything. Will our memories fade with us? How much can we keep alive? I think I need to become a picture taker.
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Fading From Me
I can feel you fading away
Because of what, I can’t say
Superficiality perhaps
Looking for that fleeting moment of satisfaction
The kind that only lasts miliseconds
And secrets
You’re keeping secrets
Hiding things as if I’ll disapprove
Do you even know me at all?
Running from me in a mad dash
I’m losing my breath as I can’t keep up
There’s darkness
So much darkness
It’s terrifying
But do you feel free?
Is this what you wanted?
Is this what you needed?
Finding yourself as you forget about me
Should I let you fade away
Or should I beg you to stay?
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Sun vs. Moon
When the sun wakes
We too are compelled to wake
Then I may see the sunshine light up your face
And the crinkled corners of your eyes from your smile
But what if we wake when the moon wakes
So that I might see your face
Basking in the translucent light of the moon
So that I might see you in a new light
And chase your shadows in the dark
I wouldn’t mind that at all
If was stayed up with the moon
So that we might discover something there
Something that we hadn’t seen before
So maybe now I’ll go to bed when the sun wakes
So that I might see your face
In the glow of the moon
And see the crinkled corners of your eyes from your smile
In that translucent light of the moon
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What I Am
My mother called me a nut and I laughed it off saying, “well, I am your daughter, so I am what you’ve made me.” But is that true? Am I the consequence of what my mother has intended? I should think not, for if I was, I would be a lot more accepting of the circumstances that I have so blindly been thrown into for my entire life. So there it is, the lie I so innocently conveyed to my mother, one that may or may not rest on her conscience, but will definitely weigh on mine. I have unintentionally put into her head that all of my failures can be attributed to the way she raised me. My being a disappointment a direct result of her teachings. How incredibly deceitful of me. I know all of this to be untrue. I am what I’ve made myself out to be. And yet, this is probably exactly what needed to be said. And now I’m just rambling.
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Musings of a Small Town Girl
____ only kissed _____ on the mouth because _____ ______ told him to do it.
I only had an inkling of the want to kiss him on the mouth because
he gave me the idea to think it.
Then the thought began to consume my mind
And it became more than just about a kiss
And more about…
Just something more.
I giggled at some of the thoughts; I think I set myself
Up for disappointment.
Why do we do that to ourselves?
Fill our heads with unattainable,
Unrealistic expectations that will be our downfall.
Then I thought about the things that I once had,
And I remembered what it was like to feel that way.
The way you’re so happy you think that you could burst.
Those aren’t bad thoughts at all.
But they’re not exactly what should be occupying my mind.
Or are they?
There’s a funny fine line between growing up
And then being grown up.
Where does one end and where does the other begin?
Oh, the things that cross my mind.
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I AM SO EXCITED! I am a huge LOTR fan, and I’m not in the least bit ashamed of it. I totally geek out over it. This is going to be the shit, I know it.
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Something I Just Learned
Apparently my mother writes a lot of poetry. Other people have said that she is quite a master at it. I can only hope to come close to the standards that she has set. It just runs in the family, I guess.
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Never Going Back
I’m not trying to find a place
In your bullshit hierarchy;
I don’t even want to be kept
Within your grasp again.
The way you choked individuality,
Sucked out creativity
And shoved “morals” down throats.
I remember the time moving slow
Bringing upon an impending doom.
Too many girls with too little clothing
And faces covered in pounds of makeup.
Beauty, you say?
You destroyed it.
You deformed it.
You defaced it.
Guys walk around like they’re the face of the place,
Jaded enough to think that they’re the best anyone
Could be.
Stomping on other people,
Crushing dreams,
Feeling no mercy.
Maybe this is what’s on top
In this hell hole,
A cage with iron bars to prove it,
But I’ve seen more.
I can be more.
I can do more.
There is so much more to life than this.
There has to be.
And I have to keep believing that.
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