censor my heart

Sliding on the kitchen floor in my socks and watching my little Hippie wag her tail and eat pinecones in the front yard. Nuns in navy blue Expedition's driving into the convent accross the street and Hall&Oates on the radio. Yes, I am home again.

I am home and singing in the car while I drive to Krogers to eat icing in the deserted grocery store aisles with my best friend. Home again to read about my tarot cards and waste away in licorice flavored therapist appointments. After sitting in a wheelchair in the Cincinnati airport alone my father looked like an angel in Abercrombie. That hug didn't last nearly long enough.

Back to school this morning and I have never felt as loved as I did in their arms. Beautiful smiles and smells of my high school hallways. Those florescent lights and tile floors are a blessing in disguise, and I wish I could see the green and white of their pep ralley. They don't know how beautiful they are.

Sweating in an overseized gym in purple shorts and old nikes. Running towards nothing and away from everything while Queen drowns me from the overhead speakers. These people smell like tanning oil and protein shakes and when I get home I'm eating a pint of Graeters. On the phone with my dad and I'M SORRY FOR THESE WORDS.

I'm sorry if they hurt you. I'm sorry if they made your face flush with unwanted knowledge. I'm sorry if they stopped you in your tracks. But I'm not sorry I wrote them. These are my truths. These are my soul. I refuse to take back all this brutal honosty with a click of my mouse because this poetry is too precious for that. Maybe someday you'll see, I never meant to hurt you,

but i refuse to censor my heart.

Lying on the back porch, bathing in Ohio spring sunshine and talking to a boy about Austrialia and MTV. Someday we will eat thai food and talk for hours over coffee and small miracles happen when you get to know a stranger in the hallways of your highschool. You can find friends even in the darkest places.

The Greatest Artist of All Time

Sizzling spiced hamburger and melted cheese, today I made my first enchilada. Dominating the kitchen in my best friends sweat pants and sweet smells of mexico fill this house. Sitting alone and smiling because tommorow I will finally get to run into my mothers arms again. Tommorow I will remmember how gently she held me- how breakable I was all this time. Yes I am fragile but oh, I did not break. I did not shatter. I stood tall knowing that I can do this on my own. I can write poetry in the chandelier glow that lights my nights of insomnia and soak up musicals about unrequited love in the sands of ancient Egypt. I can ride a bike down gravel roads in a floppy pink hat and freestyle rap about wasted weekends under my breath as I fly by wrinkled strangers who stare. I can find sanctuary in books with tattered pages and open my eyes to the love that I am being showered with. Because I have stopped worrying,wishing,regretting,aching about tommorow’s lovely trials and yesterdays dirty words. I have stopped wondering what could have been and what might be- its all inconsequential. What matters is the windchimes singing through this open window and the newly born enchiladas sitting on an oak table in the other room. What matters is these words, because they are here. Right now. In a moment they will be nothing but a memory- a pretty inspiration that struck before dinner but right now they are infinite. Right now they are flowing from my fingers with a life and a soul all their own. I can breathe again because I know that all of these dead ends have lead me to a masterpiece. I can stop worrying because every second of my world is a piece of art that can never be duplicated. I can find peace because the greatest artist of all time is painting a masterpiece. And I am living it out.

Today a pretty blonde boy restored my faith in our generation.

Thank you.

It was fading fast.