Tag: self

Not your love letter

Published on by ARisoLeave a comment

An app recommended me to write a love letter today.
You came to mind, and then you and you.
I debated for a while on who these words
were meant for and what exactly I wanted to say.

With you (and you)
my words fell short, as if I had nothing new,
nothing original to share.

And with you, you knew of my
care and thus my love, and I could easily say the words
to you as you said them to me.

I thought more about the love letter,
fully acknowledging the somewhat silliness of
obeying an algorithm in a computer.

It dawned on me that there is one person,
a person more unknown to you than me,
that I never wrote a love letter to.

I sat, back bent slightly, mulling over the words.
It felt strange at first, but soon my brain
tucked away the ungraceful thoughts.
Words like care and amazement and spunky
took the place of fearful and distant and spineless.

A cloud of sentences
floated above my head, glittering like a sky of stars.
I felt flushed and honored
to know these truths and feel this love.

Me.

Published on by ARisoLeave a comment

Signs of you exist everywhere.
My walls, my shelves, my music —
each physical and intangible characterization of me —
feel tarnished. Blighted.

If only these walls could speak;
they’d tell of the laughter
that emanated from us
as sweet sleep eluded our racing minds
and cold feet never warmed.

The windowsills, adorned with momentos,
carry the weight of my heart,
the power of the Nantahala river,
and the sweetness of a friend.

My sanctuary,
the metaphorical holy ground on which I spend
more time than I do with any human,
feels cluttered. So much of this place
I shared with you.
Too many songs remind me of you,
and too many favorites you introduced,
each one woeful in it’s own right, but even more so now.

I’ve cleaned but have not decluttered.
I don’t want to change the space,
but falling asleep to only dream of you
makes me wonder if a part of you
has never left this place.

Did you feel my pulse through the water yesterday?
A blue heron did, revealing herself to me, slowly.
Her mere existence gave proof of my ponderings,
and the truth rooted me to the rock I perched upon.

Maneuvering through this world
on legs that feel like twigs
and feet as heavy as cinder blocks,
I’m trying to see more and spin less.

Something.

Published on by ARisoLeave a comment

I’ve thought long enough
to understand the root,
not of everything,
but at least this one thing.

I’d share it with you,
but it’s a bit personal.

I know,
I’ve shared personal experiences before,
but this one feels different.

It’s something that i don’t entirely want to admit,
layered with grief and desire and hopelessness.

I typically try to smother it,
coping mechanisms of sound-pigment-flesh
litter the floor.

It never leaves though,
just stays hidden long enough
to make me think otherwise.

I’m not sure what to do with it yet.
It feels like everything is slipping,
and if I loosen my grip, even a little,

I might cease to find the strength
to hold on again
and fall into the great unknown.