There is this box-
it's small,
-carved-
but plain

It sits upon an equally plain
wooden desk.

In a rather drab bedroom
decorated by a single bed,
a chest of drawers,
a window with curtains drawn
and
the infamously mentioned
desk

All owned by a brilliant
girl
whose face was painted
by the sky
and whose hair was glittered
with stars and kissed by the
darkened eternity.
(I think of her often, remembering
her stoic smile)

I asked her
but once

"What do you keep in that lonely,
little box?"

Well,
her response, I should have
expected,

"Why, nothing but myself."

Perplexing.

Long nights spent imagining
Pandora's box being opened
or
maybe she spoke in some strange metaphor.

But would could that mean?

I do not know
But this evening
I stare at a white ceiling
wondering
myself into a confused oblivion.

Dear Universe,

For so long
I had been running from
the meaning
the true meaning
to this all.

I focused on my own short comings
my own inadequacies
my own insecurities

Failing to instead
focus on the illuminating
beauty that surrounds us

Failing to open my eyes
to the expansive
night sky freckled
with dying light

I focused on
the things
that no longer seem to matter.

Your time
and how it was spent
My time
and how it was not.

But now,
the wind sings a
sweet
and crisp lullaby
as it caresses
my sun-kissed face.

It was never about you
nor was it ever about me.

~

Dear Universe,

I have been feeling
less myself
now
more than ever.

I feel less
within myself
and more
without.

But
in that
I am more
Free,

Yes.

As the night encroaches
and the cool air embraces my frail
silhouette
A delighted smile lands
on my lips.

Yes,

Spooked by the dark isolation
within this moonlit forest
A frenzied joy
wells up from inside
and I know now
what I must do.

I feel less
within
myself.
And
more
without.

Dear Universe.

Dear, sweet Universe.

Too meaningful

The circle
-almost complete

The fire
burns
as it runs
smooth
against the
grit of my throat

The circle
-almost complete

Losing grip
spinning
around
and
around
again
and again

Throw it back
Swallow it down

The circle
-almost complete

Existence
might not
hold a purpose
but in this moment
the hazy days
and lazy moments
feel too
meaningful.

The fire.

The circle
-almost
complete

burns
as it runs

losing
grip

again

back
and
down

too

-the almost
complete circle

meaningful.

So beautifully
meaningful.

the leaves

don't fall 

              like 

they

   used 

to

they ebb
and
they
        flow
      in a
          pattern
that
      I do not
seem to
          know

that I do not
seem
        to underst-
and.

perhaps 

yes,
perhaps.  I should

       have

told 

     you

  the  words

left

unspoken

             between us.

But.
To be
honest.

           I don't
think
                    they would
             have
mattered.

Like how
a leaf
        falls.

Is
it
   really
          bothering
anyone?

Anyone
except
         me?

And tonight
I slip deeper
than I have before.

I slip down
and
this time
I won't
arise
to where
I once
stood. 

But my sweet, sweet love,

I fear that my love is deeper than 

any ocean,

more expansive than all of the galaxies,

fuller than any of your fantasies,

and better 

than 

what we think ourselves to deserve.  

The Fear

more oft than not
oh who am I kidding
always

I fear that I am simply
not enough


I did not feel
prepared for this
for any of it

and yet
each day
I arise to a new life

one that is so vaguely familiar
so ambiguously mine

No notion of
where to go
from here
if at all
anywhere

No sense
of what is to
come next.

A pit
as wrinkled
and hardened
as one of a peach
sits like acid
in my chest.

I melt away with time
more oft than not
I melt away with
fear.