I know I haven't been there,
yet I feel as if I know how those streets would feel underneath my feet.
I can visualize how the light hits the buildings each day at sunset and how the air smells each morning as the sun comes up.
I can imagine the sounds of the bird's cheerful chirps mixed into the constant chatter from the chorus of passerbys.
And if I think hard enough, I swear I can taste the sweetness of a pastry that I've never actually held in my hand.
Still I know I haven't been there.
I’ve not walked those streets and I've never seen, smelled, heard or tasted anything within that place.
Yet in every sense, I am already there.
Rooted in longing and unformed certainty.
And perhaps that is enough for now.
Her 7
Overwhelming
She tries to keep them close...
Yet her ill-fated attempts only
stifle, smother, and suffocate the people she loves most.
Her affection simply too harsh and overwhelming for them to bear.
Happiness
There are moments in my life that I'm certain time stood still.
Moments where minutes had no frame and seconds had no end.
Moments in my life when everything happening around me had completely stopped and all I felt was happiness.
Inadequate
Is there ever truly a word for what we're feeling?
How does 'sad' equate to any amount of hopelessness in my heart? Or the 'anger' within me that feels nothing short of rage? Emotions aren't finite, they change without terms.
They collide and collapse into endless waves of one another in such a way that can never precisely be described.
The adequacy of words for emotions will always fall short...
For not everything is meant to be completely understood.
RX
Compressed and covered
with an enteric-coated shell.
Altering my mind
to convince me that I'm well.
Branded to fix the low
dopamine and serotonin.
In lieu of my over-indulgence
of caffeine and melatonin.
Unworthy
I am unworthy of your warmth.
I deserve the solitude and loneliness that lives inside me, not the comfort of being between your arms.
I am not meant for contentment, I am meant for failure.
I am perpetually reckless, selfish, and stubborn.
I have damned and doomed myself.
Actress
I've been the actress
for other's acts of desperation,
depressed and unhinged
I fit the narrative's direction.
I was the female protagonist
I assume as last resort,
I was reckless, damaged,
and easy to abort.
The antagonists were always
who everyone hates the most,
using smiles and manipulation
to draw others close.
Yet in each story
the endings were the same,
they took all they could
but refused to take the blame.
I never should have auditioned
to play a single part,
but to become my own heroine
I needed to break my own heart.
Childhood
It's funny what insignificant details stick out from my childhood.
I can remember the neighbor kid's laugh,
the entirety of a book minus the title, and the foul flavor of the Flintstones vitamins that were force fed to me.
Yet the details I want to remember have been lost throughout the years.
I can no longer recall the exact model of my parent's gray car, when I lost my slightly yellow front tooth, or the address of the blue house that I spent my first years in.
It seems that I have lost those details.
It seems that I have forgotten everything except what I had expected to forget.
Home
You didn't give me shelter.
You gave me a cage.
You gave me whitewashed walls and
called it a home as I walked warily
on eggshells.
Yet I learned to crave the quiet.
I preferred to live in silence versus
hearing one of them crack.
The sound of them shattering
was somehow as loud as your palm
against my face.
AO Poetry 
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