Young Writers Society

i know that it
won't be too long
before you sing
your parting song

i have some days
'fore i sing mine
but wonder for
the coming time

will my heart sing
a different tune
when your notes
reach an end

i know that your song
will sing on and on

and i hope the same for mine

thirty minutes
of unrequited silence
as i enjoy you
for who you are

it's not a very long time
to savor every second spent with you
but i rest
in this respite

may you be a silent dream
closing guarded silent things

have you not heard of the cup so
swiftly filled, swiftly spilled up so
quickly so quickly forgotten
quickly so quickly forgot

may you be a silent dream
closely guarded secret things

fearful uncertainty sought, so
many cups that can't be bought, so
hopeless to fulfill our dreams, so
letting our brims burst and we
hope

i stay still
breathe

don't say a word
be

dimly lit curtains at the end of the room
draped at the back of a two-foot stage
(or so i assume)
i couldn't see past the six-person-thick wall
crowded around the three person band
in this tiny venue

wish i knew the songs

something in the air smelled like weed
if i knew what weed smelled like
(i don't think i do)
drunk people getting really intimate
and whispering into each others ears
i don't make eye contact

i'm glad i found a corner

my friends seem like they're having fun
with their heads bobbing to the music
(all the songs sound the same)

but it's okay

for a few short hours of my short life
i get to experience something new
(new to me, but not to you)
and now i know, it's not my thing
but i do like to be out with people
(people like you)

and that's okay

i might do it again
for you

i let the foxes through the door
and watched them rummage through my garden

stolen vines and stolen branches
little devils drunk on hard-earned wine
grapes that birthed my own destruction

when i finally caught up to
the thieves who ravaged my priceless treasures
they had already left it bare

now driven out, i rebuild slowly
for nothing worth growing in gardens
comes as quickly as it is taken

in learning loss i lock the door
and set to guard what's truly precious

beware when next you try to knock
and break my garden door:
because I've set traps
and I've waged war

i wonder if you think my crawling is normal
or if you know my feet are numb
and if my knees are battered
and you just stopped asking
to help me up

like kneaded clay
i've seen you soften, over time

more willing to be shaped
to be prodded
and refined

a well-meaning word doesn't set you off
like it used to

tailspins turned to conversation
and panic turned to slow evaluation

i know i'm not the one
spinning the wheel
nor do i have potter's hands

but what little say i have
you've received
and I've watched as you spin

and what a beautiful vessel you are

like a penny
facedown on the
bathroom floor
in a gas station
off the side of the road

i'm worth something to you
but not enough
to pick me up
and take me with you

will you still love me
when the novelty's worn off?

when my quirks stop amusing you
will you still enjoy me?

will you being to assume
you know me as i am
or will you eagerly await
the more that there is

to discover?

because i know
there's so much more to you
than the promise we shared

you're a journey
as much as this life is the same

please don't get tired
of the time it takes

to go together

resilient
not because you are unbreakable
but because you choose to love
when it is hardest

what you feel you feel
deep
like a tree, deeply rooted
as vines twist up the base

courageous
not because you are fearless
but because you chose to trust
when you were terrified

and for each of these you gain rewards
that last more
than a temporary
self-satisfaction
that says: you did it
because you could

beautiful
because you are
and what little i know (because i don't know // much)
is that you are a gift
to more than just me

and i love who you're becoming
and choosing to be

i amd the barb
of a feather

a grain of sand
in a desert

one note
in an orchestra's song

without the bird
or the dunes
or the cello and musician

i would have no place here

i am thankful
to be a part

i do not boast
in my heart: a throng of rotting flesh
or my throat: an open sepulcher

i am clothed in filthy garments
of excrement and earth

that can only be cleansed
by someone of clean lips
and a pure heart