embrace me in your honesty
rip off these layers and
warm me with your breath
touch everywhere that hurts
leave nothing to imagination
and soothe these bruises with your
eloquent form
exhaust me in your never-ending search for naked confessions.
im ready.
Dear Readers,
Let me be true here to you
In my land of poems.
I am prepared to give everything my fingers know how to spell
and my mind knows how to say
and that language has prepared me to explain about my life.
I love who I am, this is true.
But I don’t like loving who I am because that makes me seem
cocky
and so I paint a layer of insecurity
around my bubbling confidence.
But sometimes I believe in my doubts
and am afraid this makes me seem weak
and so I paint on another layer of confidence
on top of my belief in insignificance
which is on top of my selfish centre.
And then I begin to confuse exactly who I am
and I’m not even sure I’ve gotten this description right
I might be lying through another layer of “down to earth” I’ve created.
Maybe this is why no one (including
myself) has ever really figured me out.
It’s like biting into a chocolate covered strawberry on top of a salad.
Is this dessert?
Is this a meal? a snack?
Should I have packed a lunch?
I have a hunch I’m getting out of hand. Let me continue in my searching for true words…
I love life, and I love people
But sometimes I feel I can’t love enough,
That they deserve so much more
and I just cannot fathom what I could do to let them see how
great they are, how important and intelligent and loveable they are
Because for some reason humans are awkward that way
What I hate though, is this moment right now.
Because I can’t be honest with you and I’m trying.
I promise I’m trying.
But it’s hard to find the inner most me with all of this other
wrapping paper
around
it.
Like at Christmas when someone makes a joke and puts
bags
inside bags
inside wrapped boxes
stuffed with tissues
until finally you find the gift
And it’s small and you wonder,
Was it the gift I loved so much about that moment,
or the excitement of unwrapping all of the layers…
Maybe I liked it better as a mystery, not knowing when I’d find the true gift inside.
And I question then, is the innermost part, the ‘real’
the authentic
me
Or is it the whole package that creates what I am?
Damn
I’m not sure I want to venture deeper into these thoughts
Love always,
Kelly
Sunrise Thoughts 