apologies & glue // poetry

they say her heart was broken once,
by a man with a mouth full of knives, 
a ghost who consumed all that she gave him, 
and then left her behind to chase the skies. 

there are fragmented pieces of her,
scattered across the wet ground,
the crumbling ruins of a lonely spirit, 
proof of a heart once too tightly bound. 

her chest has become a graveyard of shrapnel, 
her hands are lined with invisible wounds,
every beat of her heart is an aching shudder,
echoing with once familiar voices, gone too soon. 

many strangers tried to heal the scars,
but they left hollow footprints in their wake,
because not even they could mend her heart,
all they could do was patch the break. 

she still wears her heart on her sleeve,
and the morning sky is always blue,
but some things broken can never be fixed
with hasty apologies and a little glue.

(apologies and glue, mikailah autumn)

(a bit of poetry, a fog kissed mountain, and memories of shattered words sharper than glass fragments. words possess the power to create or destroy, to repair or break, and a heart is a fragile being; easily broken, inadvertently destroyed. nothing we say can take back the words once spoken, or erase the spiderweb cracks of a broken heart. may we never forget it.)


about today

I keep telling myself that, tomorrow, I'll sit down and write. I keep whispering promises that, soon, I will push past the wall that has risen between my thoughts and my fingers and write something incredibly profound. Something that will halt footsteps, and put a hazy gleam in the eyes that wander across my words. I keep waiting for the relentless tide of poetry and the cascading river of music to return to my mind in a wave, flowing, tingling, through my fingers. I keep waiting for my todays to suddenly be more than what they are.

I keep telling myself to be patient, I keep waiting for it. But here is the truth.

Today was ordinary. Today was okay. Today, I didn't drink enough water, and as a result, had a headache while I was poring over my GED book, squinting, because my glasses prescription is 3 years outdated, and because the contacts I got last year don't work well for me and also because I'm too lazy to put them in everyday. Today, my left knee suddenly decided it was only going to straighten with the accompanying pain that usually follows a long hike, despite the fact that I only walked a mile. (Yesterday.)

Today, I felt like maybe I was rising above the wave of expectations I have raised so far above my head, because, today, I actually accomplished something. It wasn't a mile marker, but it was something, and yet, I can't figure out why I still feel like I'm drowning, flailing in the billows and whirlpools I've created for myself. What was once second nature has become unfamiliar, what I once thought was forever has proved to be sandstone, crumbling under the heavy hand of time and the change that life brings to us all, with or without our consent - and sometimes, even without our knowledge.

Writing has been hard for me lately. My music feels repetitive, as if I am simply playing in circles, forgetting the last composed lines of music until my fingers find the keys again. Those very words - writing has been hard - feel so, so wrong. Writing is the one thing that has always come easily to me, something as natural as that gasping breath that pulls life into your lungs after you come up from under a swell, as familiar as a loved voice reverberating in the shadows of a dream. I bleed onto paper, my soul's blood becoming legible in black ink, becoming tangible, transferring a piece of who I am onto something that can be held in a feather-light grasp.

There is a certain groove my words should fit in, a niche that I discovered after a few thousand struggling sentences, a place where I found comfort, where the words flowed as naturally as a mountain stream in the rocky riverbed where it has always belonged. I am trying to find that again, trying to work through the roadblocks and the discouragement and the weariness that becomes a part of anyone who tries. I am trying to let myself be where I am without feeling like I'm never doing enough, never being enough.

I am trying, learning to be okay with where I am, without settling for stagnancy. Moving forward and learning acceptance and contentedness is a balancing act, but then, I suppose most of life is. Sometimes, there are no wise words to speak, sometimes all songs sound the same, sometimes the faces of those we love only bring us pain, sometimes the most mundane, ordinary day is a process of searching for the missing pieces of a broken puzzle, and realizing that you won't always be able to put it back together. Sometimes, days are just "okay", and there's absolutely nothing wrong with that.


tell me a story, v.1

i came home three weeks ago today. i hugged you in the parking lot when i left, our hearts beating next to each other, a cacophony of rhythms pounding in our chests, struggling to get closer, closer. always closer. our heartbeats, a throbbing ache that keep us alive, and at the same time, reminds us of what we're missing. it always amazes me how something so fragile can be so strong; how something so easily broken can keep us alive to be put back together, and shattered all over again. 

five short days until i saw you again. and even though love knows no distance, the heart feels the absence of someone it loves as poignantly as if it was a physical wound. missing someone is a tender ache. it's a fragile thing. not something you can touch, or see, but oh, how you feel it. i hear the whispering in my chest, proof that i'm alive, a throbbing echo, but also a reminder that i am hollow, cracking and expanding as my heart is stretched the distance to where you are. after all, the heart is the one thing that will not be reasoned with. 

*   *   *

*   *   * 

i follow scores of tread marks to the shadowed land of concrete streets and clouded skies. even the brazen blue expanse overhead is misty with smoke, as if the tall buildings are breathing in clouds, and exhaling reluctantly released dreams. it's not a mystery why my feet are rooted in the country, but there is a certain sadness in the very largeness of a city. a million, billion people trying to fit into a puzzle that only has room for few pieces. 

it's puzzling how a building can become a place of safety for something as fragile and shy as a heart. a structure of wood and nails and concrete and cement and metal and screws with the capabilities of drawing the words "home" from our faltering lips. we associate a place with the word, but there is a difference between the feeling of home, and the actual place. the place holds material comfort and assurance, but we find our true place of dwelling in the nearness and presence of the ones we love. and oh, how i love you. as i've said a thousand times before, i would follow you until the ends of the earth. 

don't you know? my home is found wherever you are. and so, i follow you.
(a bit of fiction combined with a recent journal entry.) 


february :: {forgotten photos}

"i miss blogging."
"then why don't you blog more?"
"seriously. life is crazy."
"i know it is. but if you love it so much, why aren't you making time to do what you love, instead of wasting time doing something that requires nothing of you?" <--- a conversation i had (with myself) that really hit me hard.

okay, let's face it. life really is honest-to-goodness crazy (yes, at times, i do talk to myself), and sometimes there is absolutely no time in between to do things we love. such as... say, blogging. (ahem.) pretty much all the photos i've been taken lately have been "forgotten", because, well, i haven't posted in almost 2 months. (whaaa?) honestly, life seems to come in waves, alternating between the crashing, billowing swells that suck us under, and steal the breath of our lungs and the gentle, persistent tide that laps against our feet just often enough to keep us unbalanced. 

life is an ocean of so many different colors, and sensations and experiences. full of memories and distractions that fill our time, and pull our attention away from things that matter. and the truth is, life stops for no man (or woman). even the happiest moments hold bittersweet memories, and sometimes we don't have time to do the things we love most. but i am determined to make time - at least, make more time - and spend less time doing senseless things that have no positive or useful effect on my life, and spend more time doing things i love. 

which means, hopefully i'll be blogging a bit more regularly in the future. because, truthfully, i really do miss it. and sometimes you have to sit down and just do it. ignore the boundaries and boxes we build for ourselves, the guidelines we create that stay within the appropriate range of 'blogger expectations' and simply write when we have something to say. i used to do it so much more, and i want to get back to it.

because, hey, it isn't just writing i miss. i miss YOU guys too! so, what's new with you friends? how is your 2015 going? i'd honestly love to hear. xo

p.s. as the title says, here are some random snapshots from the month of February that never saw the light of day. ;)