Letters

I could write like a 24 year old. I could write like I’m 40. I could write
Like my favorite writers
But I don’t want to offend
Or humiliate myself

I have paint in my floor from an idea I had …
my favorite pair of jeans have paint on them now,As well as a few holes.
My favorite t shirt is old and blue
But it’s still soft and comfortable
This is actually what I sleep in

I just know
I wake up
And I feel like walking
I’m not anxious
I’m not in love
I’m not depressed
My hands don’t shake
But I have a hole in my chest
And the ocean
Beating against me
Again
And again

If I climbed the mountain to get perspective
It would just make me feel empty
If I left the valley
And went into the city
I would be distracted
And see things to make me write
But then
I think of all that I should be writing
Now

Sometimes you just need
That understanding
Person
Who let’s you know
That you’re not crazy
You’re not alone
In your frustration
confusion
anxiety
Or even that calm
That says
‘It is what it is’

There’s so many cliche’s I try to avoid
I just know
you say things
That move me
You see things
You remind me
Of things
That settle me
And of all the letters
I like yours the best.

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