I lost myself again last night.
That tight feeling in my chest overcomes me and I’m drowning;
Sinking myself into dangerous parts of the sea.
I can feel a part of me-which is sweet, happy, full of love and laughter- segregating more into a velvet heart-shaped locket.
Hidden deep within my chest.
Who has the key?
When this happens, I am a spitting image of the man I cast of- my own pops.
His anger and hate and disdain has been forgiven under my breath,
But why am I still stuck?
Why am I still here?
I don’t wish to follow his footsteps,
They are wearisome and confused, too large of shadows to fulfill
Hollow and drunk on the past
I want to create my own because I am my own.
I still know what freedom tastes like: tangy orange nectar from a straw, hot tea on a lonely night.
I still know what freedom looks like; my laughing face and yours, playing in our watery kingdom.
I still know what liberation feels like: a cool palm resting on my cheek.
I still know what sovereignty sounds like; a brewing pot of coffee, glasses clinking, distant waves.
At what point does the locksmith become locked?