The poetry of you



photo by Stephanie Mann



I center myself in a room, often dark and unassuming.

In this room I can vaguely see, but there is always a presence that surrounds me, so reassuring, so loving. And I lost in a dark room, with no clear vision, had to learn to feel. Because emotions helped me cope with my reality. My high tolerance for pain had me constantly lost, in not feeling the pain that others intended for me to feel. I am usually oblivious on purpose to pain because I don’t fear it, I just am a lover and it hurts to lose love. So there, my sights where in the wrong direction. Some type self-inflicted wound. So I journeyed alone in a little red boat, out there in the middle of a vast ocean. I felt the price of freedom, and with no strings I drifted. Life stop being about the rhyme, my mind was hypnotized by looking at the scenery. My research became practice, and my observations changed as I did. I stop recording…I started freestyling, because I realized the truth often rhymes, so it’s not effort. So then improve, I became bored with rehearsing, so on the spot creativity became my challenge. Lose or win, I don’t want cheat myself.


Not my questions or my worry, yet there are many questions I do not ask, but I can do math, and you add up, so I don’t subtract my love, when you go there, into the place you go, that’s yours and belongs to you. I sit outside on a bench doodling into my notebook until you come to. I explain in unusual detail all the things I was thinking while missing you. I don’t know if I am being trained, I suspect I am to go against my normal fire reactionary fervor, to peacefully watch the tide come in with you. Like a kid I have an instinct to run away, but with you my instinct is that I should stay, going against the grain of the way I have defined myself. I have to remind myself that I have levelled up, but all the boss in me don’t care, like you give me wings when your standing there. And I won’t hide my eyes from you, life is short and you’re the best thing for my type of mood. Why front and not tell you thoughts I have in my solitude. Even though I know I have been meeting you there for years, in the Temple of My Familiar

Where only God and I rest. Where I tell him things most secret and unto Him the truth of my soul confess. And out of my mouth He showed how my words painted you, from out of my subconscious I had an internal key to you. That I could hear even from a distance if you call my name. That when I lay down in bed at night I rest with you the same. My powers are useless against you, I wouldn’t even use them if I could. Like when God spoke to Job of the Unicorn and what the heart of men would so to such a majestic creature, out of greed, and vanity. Well to me you are more rare than a unicorn, my 1 in a billion chance knowing a love I can’t remember from this life because it is delivered onto me from another. So

You, have been the poetry I have been musing to for years, I find my memories of you in poems in my poetry book, I swear the poems are 96-99, but they talked about I love I was surely looking for but thought I’d never find. Since we started conversing and building I have been musing for a great love poem, or the words as well as I could conceive them, to sing to you. The prettiest most soulful ballad that would touch your soul, so that you are clear on your love’s hold on me, and how it makes me bold.


Photo inspiration

photographer -unknown

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