Sanctuary

and i have no boat

i must only sit at my shore

and wave at an unsuspecting soul, faded into the horizon

i have no boat

so i must only dream of what it’s like

to touch your skin

i have done my best to teach myself to sail

i have learned and tested these waters

but still, i am stranded

but still, i have no boat

to get

of what is felt but not expressed

a release onto the roof of my car until my knuckles have been introduced too many times with the felt that has rubbed them raw

a release

of breath after being held until my thoughts became vague and my body weak

i pull the seat belt harder and follow the melody of the song until breath is not an option and the pace of my inhale matches that of my heart.

i am balancing out the tension of my head with that of my paused breath

i am balancing out the hurt in my heart with that of the pain in my punch

i haven’t been sleeping well

i haven’t been dreaming well

it’s been hard

on the inside

to the place i feel most safe, my confidant to which i write, the rooftop next to the foxmart, the place i spill, my biggest collection of my work, a blog, a photo album,

i wake, bathing in the light filtered through the blinds.

i wake in a sense of being ignorant to movement.

i try to dose back off to the tempo of my roommates snores.

i have my tired laundry beside me and my day before me. what shall i do?

i collect:

hearts

mugs

stories

memories

friends

books

pennies

pictures

i’m okay with never being the person i am in my head

i’m okay with not possessing the reins

i love who

i am

i love how

i exist

i love everything

i am not

i’m okay with being

a thrill

i present my self as open as i can. the entirety of myself to you. prostrate, in the open air.

knowing and accepting the hurt that could so easily come,

if you are human. so i understand.

if i hurt,

i hurt

i’m sorry, i don’t want to say hello

i feel safer alone

i wish to be

i am down in utopia with beads strung from trees wishing you were here with me

the Canadian girl reminded me of you not because of the french accent or her dreads but of her lingering tobacco scent