“To be a poet is a condition, not a profession.” – Robert Frost

How Deep?

You didn’t get an inch.

I ran miles.. around a track until you ran out of love for me.

They all had to coax, convince, compete.. for a love that I gladly gave you for free.

Your attention was like the ocean and I was determined to dive in it.

But you never pulled me up for air.

I almost died in it.


I feel like I sold my soul for a seat at a table with people who don’t value my opinions or passions anyway.

I auctioned off my creative mind for a 9-5 because I thought success meant having an office.

They gave me a salary in exchange for the time that I’ve wasted trying to convince myself that I could be happy doing this forever.

They dangled business cards before my eyes so that I would feed into the lie that people knowing my name could be more fulfilling than knowing myself.

They gave me my personal extension hoping that I wouldn’t take any wake up calls. Took down my direct deposit information to send me the same amount every month but what I desperately needed was a reality check.

I sat in HR discussing benefits while burying the parts of me that make me feel alive. I had a funeral on the same day that I set up retirement.

You look so good in your business attire but you have no business being here when there is a fire inside of you.

Creative minds, beware of what it will really cost you to get paid at a job that you prayed for because you were too afraid that your real ambitions would fail.

Beware of the discomfort you will feel in the shoes that were easy to put on but made for someone else’s feet. You will have to shrink yourself to fill them.

The worst parts of your day will be when they point out your gifts but won’t value them. You will resent them for the box that you put yourself in.

Your purpose will shine through in the mediocrities of the job and their compliments will cut like insults because it insinuates your true potential.

You’ll take the title attached to the name attached to the face that you won’t be able to pick out in a line up.

Line up! Next to all of the lost, creative souls who did a disservice to themselves. Is it a homicide or a suicide to kill your dreams with doubt?

You’re successful but a monster for watching yourself suffer.. for a seat at a table with people who don’t know you or value you because you placed more value on your desired pay than your inner most desires.

“Congratulations! We are excited to offer you a position with our company” accompanied with the regret you will feel when you realize that you can still hit rock bottom.. at the top.


Air.

I looked to the sky and saw simplicity. And in that moment, I understood why the dove symbolizes peace.

Because with my feet on the ground, I still feel the weight of the world on me. I want a breath of that fresh air. I want to feel free.

But instead, too often I feel myself suffocating.

Exhaling far more than I inhale. Giving more than I take demands a lot out of me.

I looked up and saw that the sky wasn’t as cluttered as my mind and I envied what I feared.

The birds are oblivious to their privilege.

They don’t even know why they sing!

What did they do to deserve that peace.. that air.. that freedom… that wind beneath those wings?

I am a prisoner to the earth and my mind while they cut through space and time. And me, I feel like I could never have enough of it.

I dream of the day that a bird offers me their wings for my feet.

I know exactly why the caged bird sings but for the life of me.. I can’t figure out why the free bird would ever choose to land in this complexity.


Dangerous.

I knew that this was dangerous ….to hang on to every word that you said. Because those words were empty. But I didn’t know how to let them pass by like the days on the calendar.

Now I still dream about quick glances, forehead kisses and promises that never held up.

Now I shrink when you walk in a room. My heart sinks when I see her and I think good things when I think of you but spit venom when your name comes up.

We didn’t have any closure. No meaningful farewells. There were no “I wish you the bests” or “take cares” and I suffer for it. Because I’m angry. And I’m bitter. And there is no peace within me because we made none between us.

Time was supposed to heal all but it’s almost a year and I still haven’t wrapped my head around how you could wrap your arms around me then embrace her love.

The months went by and I still can’t understand how I couldn’t recognize the taste of bitter-sweet lies on your lips.

The seconds seem longer in a room and I still don’t know how to pretend that I can’t feel your presence in it.

But I do the best that I can.

I knew that this was dangerous…


Closure.

The only thing that closure ever did for me…

was open doors.

It’s been a year and I still haven’t figured out how to shut you out.

There is a fence around my house that is just barely high enough for you NOT to climb over.

I built it myself.

Just for you.

I set up road blocks around my heart. There is no detour that would lead you to it.

All of the highways are closed off due to the damage caused by a storm named after you.

For 2 inconsistent years, I looked into the windows of your soul and got lost in the most dangerous place to be in a hurricane.

Your eyes.

I wrapped caution tape around my body like everyday is an ABC party. I figured the least I could do was warn them.

I’m off limits.

I put my healing heart behind a glass case with a sign that says “Break in case of emergency” because if my being is ever at risk again for falling for you, I pray that someone doesn’t spare me the cold reality.

I hope that they break my heart before you do.

All communication between us was blocked off. No texting, no sexting, no DMs, WYDs or IMUs at 2 am.

and it was all for my own good.

So, imagine my surprise finding out that there is no mental block that I can use to get rid of you.

There is no delete button to remove you from my memories.

One glimpse of you and all interactions are restored and filed accordingly.

There is no unsubscribe option for your many appearances in my dreams.

I wish I could OPT out.

I tried to get over you.

I tried to stay away from you.

I tried to forget you.

I tried to forgive you.

I tried to shut a door that you never even cared enough to knock at.

Because I know that if you did, I’d let you in.

Because if you came to my fence, I’d remove the padlock.

If you got lost on the way to me, I’d give you my new address.

 ALL I’ve ever done for you was keep the door cracked.

And the only thing closure ever did for me was open it back.

 

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