With one hand on my tender heart, I write.
With one hand on my tender heart, I write.
we’re going back to basics today
we’re going back to basics today
to poetry, to flow
to yearning
to cobblestones and window panes
to sitting with pain
and just watching it
just breathing softly
this is it and this is everything and this is nothing
at all.
we live in a cutthroat world / or at least a fickle one
and more and more, I am realising that
I need to be able to express my truth
I am past playing games.
I can’t lie. I can’t pretend.
this is what I choose, have chosen, commit to
for myself, above all else
for myself.
I am not selfless, and I burn.
and I hope.
and I dream.
and I love.
and sometimes, it all goes up in flames.
this is the moment and it’s exactly what she was born to be.
and this is what she does. and this is who she is.
I am human too /
and I am reminded of just how much courage it takes to live open-heartedly.
