9 and 10

Relative:
There are some people who bend like rubber bands
They stretch themselves thin just to hold everything together
There are people who break
They snap with the weight of it all
I don’t want to wear my failures as a bow tie
I don’t want the lines in my face to tell any story besides my age
And even then
It’s all relative
I’ve been 80 years old hunting for antiques and tuna melts
I’ve been 4-year-old bruised knees from learning how to ride a bike
I’ve been newly 23, searching for the place my mind goes when I’m all alone
There are some people who dread silence
They surround themselves by bodies in hopes of finding friendship
Or maybe just a distraction
Sometimes people need to be distracted
They might have misfortunes rummaging through their memories
They might need a break from all the breaking their rubber band ball heart does when everything inside of them explodes
Sometimes people are not play-doh
They are glass
They are wood
They can shatter
And split
They can fall into a pit of disaster if you let them
Don’t ever let them
Everyone can learn to bend

 

Image

I bought this painting at a local art show.

I am that painting:
A picture of me
Curious as she
A painted key chain dangling
Left hip swaying back
Cuffs rolled mid-shin
The one within me
I am that painting
Two wild children questioning
Leaves collecting in their hair
Who is she?
The turquoise one who follows me
Who shadows my mustard yellow skin calmly?
Are we traveling?
Or wandering…
Either way
A bubble is an awfully fragile thing to be riding in
I must trust her
I must be willing to share delicately with her these breaths of bubbled air
So can you tell me
When do I find her?
Because up to now, I’ve just been exhausted with the search
And you painted that picture of me so perfectly
I admire your ability to physically capture me
So I’m sure you captured her just as precisely
Can you hint to me just who you had in mind?
I’d like to meet her
Like to greet her with an adventure or two
So we can have a story or two years from now
Nostalgia back to our bubble-floating ways
High days
Young-age mindset
All while surrounded by Evergreens
And we’ll realize that bubble is our dreams and we’re still floating

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s