As I look into the night, I’m reminded of you. I miss the moon but was taught to never give up my freedom or fall in potential.
I’ve touched the surface of the deepest hearts and yet I still roam, in search of.
I’ve picked up pieces of left over me’s in all of you and crafted a masterpiece that somehow, always, ends up an unfinished work in progress.
I’ve gotten a little too good at making it just about me. I tread lightly between selfishness and discernment, mourning and coping, acceptance and solitude, love and loving, confidence and boasting, judgement and hiding, perfection and passion.
Tread, tread, tread
Long, long, long
I usually fall for myself in all of you’s. I see a bit of me that I once was or almost am or remembering to be and I run with it, then from it. Running so fast, only to find the same rusted hidden message beneath the first kiss.
My passions lie in my purpose, for a reason. No material, place or being can fill this void that keeps me up with a pen at night but… me. I’ve sky dived into the pit of my stomach and regained the key.
I, eye, I n I
I feel so selfish, every night I come back to me.
With every fall, I catch myself in a new nest.
I paint words and hum lukewarm lullabies with the blue birds in the sunrise.
I left ever lasting impressions in your chest pressed with mine.
I see it in your eyes every time. I left the tips of my brushes wet in your favorite colors and fruit.
I haven’t forgot, I’m remembering all of me first; while crafting the most beautiful work in progress~