on conversing-

some of my deepest conversations are birthed from spontaneity. i am captivated by words and how serendipitous they can be. though i am a lover of all things poetic, even so i cannot escape this poignant reality: words often fail me and i, them.

i so much wish at times for the right ones to come. the state of paralysis we so often find ourselves in when speaking to a dear friend or dear love, can be so devastating. at night i sit in bed as all those unspoken, leftover words rush through me one at a time and sometimes all at once; as i lay full of regret, but promise of a new start and perhaps another chance (God willing), i rehearse what i can do, that which i can say. i am able, yet so unable. how can it be that so many paradoxes exist within one being?

come to me words, fail me no more. emotions lose your weight and dissolve from within only to be exposed for what you truly are; empty; valueless.

i desire to be seen for what i am and not through disillusioned eyes, for i am no different than the next. i possess the same brokenness and pain.