i will have a lifetime to fill with words.
someday, i will be allowed to sit in front of a blank screen with a blinking cursor, waiting to remember words i’ve always known. (the beauty is inside of me, but it’s not willing to fight to be seen.)
someday, i’ll lie with an empty pad, pens surrounding me, leaking ink & time.
someday i will not let words be lost on being late, on rushing places, on not having the time to pull over and write poetry on my leg because i’ve forgotten paper.
someday i will not feel like i’m holding my breath… aching for fresh air, unwilling to breathe staleness even one more second. choosing then, nothing over something that’s not good enough.
someday life will be full of inhales and exhales. inhales as days and hours spent breathing the musty smell of old books that never lose the smell of binder’s paste, edges worn soft from other’s thumbs. exhales: words poured on pages and most will be discarded, but i’ll see the joy in their loss (and i will truly understand this someday too –that they are willing sacrifice themselves for the greater good of something great [instead of just good].)
someday, i won’t believe that there must be something more to all of this. that there must be a reason to all of this (other than to have life, create life and then lose it). i’ll know it.
someday, i’ll have words for keeps. for keeps, i said. someday, i won’t have to put them down or put them aside. i’ll simply live them, they’ll simply drive me, and i’ll be myself, in part at least, but probably completely.