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The First Draft

"Write drunk; edit sober."

Month

April 2017

Half-written

Half-written drafts.

Unfinished thoughts.

It’s so easy to feel,

But so damn hard to write.

 

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Take in every flower

Take in every flower.

Every butterfly.

Every smile.

Every ounce of passion.

Absorb the happiness.

Reflect the beauty. 

Become the good in the world.

The one

Find the one that breathes a sigh of relief when they see you.

That says, “Finally. There you are.”

That hugs on to you tight, so you’ll never be separated again.

Half a lifetime has gone by without one another.

Though I suppose life only begins once you find the one. 

So rest. Hold on tight. Happier days are ahead.

What I learned at the top of the parking deck

Thursday. 10 p.m.

It’s been a long day/week/semester, and quite frankly I’m beat.

My roommate and I ventured from our room for food to be greeted by mountains of clouds in the distance. Dark, deep gray with a layer of even darker and deeper gray behind it.

The clouds soared overtop of the horizon.

And just at the edges shown a hint of pink. The kind of pink that seems fluorescent against the gloomy sky.

After the rain, the atmosphere filled with the smell of wet pavement and the feeling of wholeness. It’s the calm before the storm.

The dark clouds and light sprinkle only warned us for the storm rolling in over the hills.

Eager to get a better look at the sunset, we went to find higher ground. Somewhere the buildings wouldn’t get in the way of our view.

The parking deck. Perfect.

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It doesn’t sound as poetic in words, but at the time, it did the trick.

Leaning against the railing, I could feel the wind in my hair. The wind that would normally frustrate me as a part of Indiana, Pa.

This time it felt different. It was calming.

For a few moments, I could forget about my hectic day. I could forget about my work that I have to do tomorrow and my exams that are coming up.

For a few moments, I could just focus on the simple pleasures of life as I watched a flash of lightning light up a small section of the clouds.

The lightning accentuated the pink. Complimenting it. One, a soft ray. The other, a destructive force. Both beautiful.

For the first time in a while, I was able to leave my own body. Forget I’m a person.

I could stand on the parking deck.

And watch the sun set.

 

Pretty little package

Once there was a pretty little package,

Wrapped in fine paper and tied with lace.

It resembled all things beautiful and pure.

But no one thought to look inside to see,

The sad little girl inside the pretty little package.

For no one looked past the first glance.

They saw a soft smile and shiny blonde hair,

All must be well.

But one look into the eyes told otherwise.

Daffodils

Maybe the sun doesn’t shine when you’re all alone,

And rain drops fall from a clear, blue sky.

Sometimes birds don’t sing their song to you,

But hush their flocks when you walk by.
Each day drags on. Each second. Each hour.

Darkening, decaying, slipping away.

But what you encounter, the same for the flower.

Although it still blossoms every May.
When your world fills with darkness and gloom,

Remember the daffodil suffered winter before it could bloom. 

Simple things

Charming laughs that echo through your mind.

Fingers that play with your hair when you’re falling asleep.

Soft kisses that gently plant themselves on your forehead.

Eyes that watch your lips stop mid-sentence to smile.

Such small acts but such large meanings.

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