When I met you, something clicked.
Like a skeleton key in an old lock, slow but sure.
Only it opened a door
to a room not ready to be lived in.
Dust of the past lay heavy in nooks that lay forgotten.
Cobwebs clung to keepsakes
kept locked away far too long.
Still, I let the light in.
I dusted the areas I was allowed to reach
and left a few flowers in my wake.
I wear that key, close to my heart,
in the hope that one day I may call it home.
I stop by to dust when I’m asked,
but one day I fear,
this key will become a key to nowhere.
At least that’s what they tell me. At least that is what I remember. Eccentric seamstress knitting together times and places. A magician creating reality from daydreams. It has been a while since I have bled. Years since my heart poured into a keyboard and I deemed it worth the pain.
Pain… I used to joke that my poetry came from a dark place, that my best words were tears I thought no one would ever see. Now, I’m not so sure. I have happy moments. Have memories turned melodies and dried in ink, but do I deem them worth the smile, the laughter, the immortality of a paragraph?
Some may argue that happiness is fleeting. That it deserves remembrance. That it deserves to be savored and set in the stone of books that line shelves for future generations. But happiness has always been–at least for me–a battle. Beauty found in a dying Daffodil, love found in a headless Barbie, and a chorus line in a bad song. I must fight for every bit of happiness.
I guess it may be worth the pain after all. My best words come from dark places.
And here I am again, dark and bittersweet. Now, what will I write?
I thought of you today. Normally, you sit just on the edge of memory, slightly out of reach. Barely a shadow, yet tangible enough to teach. You remind me of a lesson it took too long to learn or match left way too long to burn. You take me back to that victim of before, scarred for your love and craving more. You were the drug and I was your addict. Well, you know what they say about old habits…
I thought about you today and I caught myself dreaming…
It’s time to change. Something that does not evolve can only go stale. There are no coincidences, only lessons to be learned. So I’m following this new path head first! To be all of me! I deserve it! #SameDreamDifferentDreamer #Daydreamer #Queen #DopeAssLesbian #90dayplan!
I am a daydreamer. People say nothing comes of it.
That answers are not found in the stars
but in scars that reality leaves for us.
Only things you can touch.
But that contradicts
what you told me when I was six.
Didn't you tell me to follow my dreams?
I can't touch them now but soon,
Let me daydream a little longer.
I don't want to be enslaved at night
by those fancies of flight
that only come in my unconscious state.
Because I can't move and have to wait.
Wait for morning and I forget
what they were. My mind resets.
Programmed to the stereotype that I have to
do things a certain way to be accepted. Patterned
into the design some other daydreamer concepted
I am a daydreamer. I want to dream awake
and not wait
to do something about it.
Take what I see
and what's within me
to change the world.
I know Momma I'm just a girl,
but I can do it. One dream at a time,
with one word or rhyme.
Pisces are escapists and idealistic they say.
But Thomas Edison and Bill Gates were described that way.
"Frank Lloyd Wright daydreamed so intensely
that his uncle had to shout at him to get him back."
Can't you see Momma? For me it's like that.
I think in pictures and feel things.
Books read like rhyme and I touch themes.
It's not something I became.
I was born this way.
I want to be free Momma.
I don't want to fight.
Please understand I dream
and realize them by day,
so I can rest easy at night.