I use to believe I wasn’t creative
But now I know my mind is my color
My paint brush and paint
It helps me draw a world full of pain and love.
Hopes and hells.
It is my art.
And I’m grateful
For its existence.
I use to believe I wasn’t creative
But now I know my mind is my color
My paint brush and paint
It helps me draw a world full of pain and love.
Hopes and hells.
It is my art.
And I’m grateful
For its existence.
Sometimes I think of you in between the stars and sunlight.
For you are not black or white
But a rainbow in the night
Do you ever dream with poems floating in your head
Like little cigarette butts in the ocean.
Do you ever see them taking shape from the smoke they create
Or is it just a dud potion.
I wonder sometimes what would happen
If I let them take form
Would they be unique
Or just the norm.
But I also think, would it be cruel to trap them
When they look so happy floating there.
When I was a kid, my mom would try to teach me to look up.
Look at that squirrel, Brooke!
Look at those flowers! They’re naked ladies!
Look
Look
Look
And I would.
Every time I would try to see what she saw, but I just didn’t care.
Her love of nature kind of bored me actually, but I pretended to love it for her because I saw how happy it made her.
But then I moved here and everything seems to have a different color to it. Everything seems brighter, newer, and maybe even more magical?
So I started looking up more.
I started seeing the birds, the clouds, and the trees the way she use to and I finally understood what she saw.
It was love.
-B.
Sometimes I read your shit and can’t relate.
The words are too fluffy.
The sentences are too dry.
And the meaning is empty.
I wonder why you even write at all.
I woke up to the flame
The fire dancing between your fingers
You giggled as I stared
Scared you would burn
But you never did
You and him
Always knew how to play between the lines
How to push boundaries
Face fears
You both laughed in the face of danger
Ha
Ha
Ha
But I never did
Instead, I was your Zazu.
Scared of getting caught
Scared of getting burned
I toed the line
Until one day the line burred
And I became the flame
I haven’t written here for a while. I guess I’ve been avoiding it. I tend to do that when I’m in conflict. Even through my past therapy lessons, I still run from my emotions. I guess some habits never change.
But I’m here now.
Writing. Thinking. Plotting.
I want to be consistent in my endeavor to be vulnerable.
I want to be more fearless.
So I’m gonna write.
Daily.
And it’s going to get annoying.
But I think I need to do this.
I need to find my pain and forgive it.
Because this blaming avoidant behavior isn’t working.
So here I am.
Promising tomorrow I’ll show up.
Love you.
Brooke
Also, we got a new dog. Say hi to Buckley.
I feel aligned with you.
I see me
In you.
When I first met you,
I knew.
I could feel your energy too.
The perfectionism, pride and potential
were swimming around you.
Me and you.
You and me.
We’re bonded.
Don’t you see?
Our past pain
Has brought us together
In hopes
that one day
We’d find to be,
What I would consider,
The key.
For your forgiveness of your trauma has unlocked the mystery.
Tears
I hear
They run
Not walk.
Is
Running
More
Exciting?
Why do they run down your face
Instead of glide
Swim
Jump
Skip?
Are we to assume they are not
Playful?
Or are we to assume they aren’t able?
What if they only could crawl?
Would that not be worth it all?
So let them crawl, glide, swim, jump, skip.
Describe them with intention.
Don’t assume they need tension.