A Step Forward
To me,
words were nothing more than it was.
They were crude,
But efficient.
Practicality was the only purpose for words.
They were more like swords given to soldiers for war,
Than pieces of beauty to be admired.
It wasn’t until time inspired pain into my heart,
And frustrations in my brain.
I had loved and lost.
I had loved her, and she did not feel the same.
For the next 6 months, “what if’s” and “why’s” plagued my mind,
As I tried to find an answer to ease my growing heartache.
In a life with no one to talk to about topics any deeper than surface level,
It was hard to find an outlet.
One day, I was stuck in my room with nothing, but a notebook and a pencil.
For some reason, to this day,
I do not know what possessed me to pick up the paper and pencil and made me write.
Although, when I did, I fell in love.
When I wrote, the quality in poetry was equivalent to that of a grocery list.
But to me, if my poems at the time were anthropomorphized,
they would win the nobel peace prize for making me come to terms with pain.
In this moment, I had moved on.
Poetry had given me the ability to take fragments of time, build a house, and move in without the fear that at any second it could all disappear.
Poetry had given me the ability to finally live in the moment.