I used to write poetry

There was a period in high school when I didn’t get out much unless I was with my boyfriend. On the evenings I spent at home, I would retreat to my bedroom, dim the lights, play soulful music (think Mazzy Star and the Cowboy Junkies) and write and rewrite and write again – my words always tied to the aforementioned boyfriend – in an attempt to express the pain I was feeling during a time when I couldn’t find the voice to say it out loud (it was not the healthiest or happiest of relationships).

I have always written this way – dim lights, quiet music – even in college as I wrote endless papers for my journalism classes. I still do it today when I can. But it’s hard to find the opportunity to tuck myself away into a quiet corner long enough to really tap into anything I’m feeling and effectively express myself. I’ve had a few moments on this blog where I’ve been really proud of what I’ve written (here, here , here and here are a few), where I’ve matched emotions with words and found truth, even if it was just my own. It’s the same place I retreated to in high school, and it is my most favorite place to be.

A few weeks ago I stumbled upon a notebook full of poems and ridiculous drafts of letters to the boy I dated for most of my high school career. It was a trip, because when I wrote it all – the poems, the love notes – it all felt so profound at the time (I was 16 when most of it was written), but now it all seems…well, like a high schooler wrote them. While these are very personal, I thought I would share a few of them.

I recognize this feeling. Something in the way that the wind moves with you.

I looked into your heart and saw I was no longer there.

Somewhere deep inside my soul screams to your deaf mind.

I’m lost in your desert while you navigate the ocean.

-the last splash-

Everything blends into a mirage of love.

An image pulses in my mind – loves executioner.

Hearts combined, minds intertwined
Our bodies move in unison, your soul echos mine.
Spirits united, lives intermingled
Our love lingers on the breath of life.

And then I found this, too. It was a poem I wrote for an assignment in my 7th grade English class. I was 13, and it was the first time I felt words just flow onto paper. I liked them, and when I saw how much my teacher loved what I wrote…it became the first time I realized that maybe writing was my thing.

The sun seemed blinding, glinting off the area where hair seemed extinct.

Sweat shimmered on his forehead as he started the journey back to bed. He let out a sigh, muttering only one word, “Why?”

Why must his vibrance slip away, his body weaken and decay? His hopes and dreams disappear and become replaced with fear?

Fear of being obliterated  and becoming even more out dated. Terrified of the fact that time can never go back.

An awakening realization swept through the cobwebs of his mind, combining with a tear-wrenching question.

I have given my life to become the person I am now. Was it worth it?

• ← If you need a good song for your Valentine(s)
• And then we decided to sell our house →