My Poetic Soul November

Physical (physiological) Distance

I thought moving 1000s of miles away

To 1000s of new people

Would make me forget


And I was embarrassed

When it wasn’t true

Someone asked me to write about coffee

So I’ll write about coffee

Coffee is like poetry

It’s an anecdote

It’s addictive

It makes my body tremble

It keeps me up all night

It turns me into a psychopath

It also makes me sane

It turns dust (life) into drink (living)

And sometimes I forget

That I ripped my heart out

And held it right in front of you

Let you judge it

Take what you wanted

Then refuse the rest

(the wounds of love unreturned)

Most times, I feel like the only person on the plant

Music stops

and I think it’s the end of the world


I took for granted

Every moment

Of thought provoking silence


At the back corners

Of my mind

All brought to the surface in this place I call home that's love and hate and fear and my childhood and memories I forgot and remembered all at once now left to deal with them.

Pull at my chest

Unbutton the pain

Remind me I can feel

Remnants of vulnerability

One day you’ll wake and realize how real and unreal everything actually is. You go through life thinking you are invincible in more ways than one. Then you pop the tiny bubble you didn’t even realize you created for yourself, escape the tiny kingdom you wanted nothing to do with but actually ruled as queen. You’ll realize how small you are and how big the universe is. You’ll wonder if what you’ve been told is what you actually believe. You’ll attempt to blow a bubble similar in stature but it will always pop, and you’ll try to climb the ranks of a new kingdom but decide that maybe you’re an emotional democracy. You’ll dwell on the fact that it will never be the same and sometimes imagine that it is. It never will be. But it will be. Better.