Ars Poetica

Seeping through my skin,
light as a feather,
you let yourself in,
treading all the emotions
that were pent up within.
A method to convey without reliving
avoiding all the confrontation
the world would be giving.
You waited,
patient, as the anger turned to sorrow,
as the sorrow turned to doubt
as the tears dripped down, blotching ink,
muddying looped letters as my deepest hurts began to shrink.
Heart’s bandaged once more
stitching my flesh wounds close.
The throb parts away with a lesson,
another truth, another reflection.
Pressed between a stiffed back diary,
is me.
Me, during all the highs and lows,
me, when I just couldn’t take it slow.
You are a memoir of who I was,
a reminder of who I am,
and a concoction of all that I aspire to be.
Skinning all the layers
You see me for me
Not as an imposter,
Not as a timid little girl who I render me to be.
You hold a mirror just when it is necessary.