no. 3: egs

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Eloquence is not simply measured by the fluidity of your movements,
or the perfection of your mascara,
or the lace in your newly purchased dress,
but in the curvature of your heart as it resembles your desire,
and your hope.

furthermore, Grace is unmatched by the smoothness of the water, and the fine grass that lines the side.
and Grace is found in the pine, and in decaying bark surrounding the core.
but i think i found Grace in the workings of her cognition.

and once, i think i found perfection in Simplicity.
i'm not sure if this is a love letter, or simply a upheaval of emotions,
but either way i think she would appreciate it.

frankly i don't even know what love is so how could this even be a love letter?
is it a statement of affection?
or a proclamation of genuine appreciation?

i wrote a song or two about said Eloquence,
but i choked on the words as they slipped through my teeth,
and scratched my gums so that every word dripped with the blood of emotion.
and Grace.

i miss the Simplicity of warm nights and the strength in numbers,
and the fatigue accompanying desire and excursion.

i miss the Eloquence of small words,
and the Grace in no words,
and the Simplicity in thought.

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i miss coherence.

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no. 2: Almighty

Sometimes the fluidity of my emotions is alarmingly solid.
and like clay they seem to clump together into an unidentifiable mass.

Sometimes they drift through the leafless branches of the trees that remind me of security.
occasionally they rustle through the dying bark, and through the brown needles littering the ground.
occasionally they stop.

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Clay.
-

Turns out the ridicule begins to wear one down a bit.
it starts at the shoulders, and the joints become tattered and disjointed.
then in your wrists, you forget how to use the empowering pen in your journal.
once it hits your feet, walking is no longer an escape but the shackles that bind you to your hell.

I raise the white flag Almighty God.

I surrender.

I dug my way through the clay that claimed my emotions, and as they bled out of my shattered world, they mixed with the very obstacle I had to climb through.

The trees don't blow in the wind anymore, Almighty God.
i don't hear the leaves lift off the ground, only to brush across my shaken skin.
i don't even hear my own music anymore, as it slips of my fingers, and out into breath.

I raise the white flag Almighty God.

Everyone has fallen from my side, and you have me alone.
i stand here, war torn, distraught, medicated, afraid, hopeless, exhausted, breathless, but strong.

Digging through the clay left me vulnerable.
Digging through the clay left me vulnerable.
Vulnerable.

So take the shot.

I raise the white flag.