I may never be a pretty one
But I know John Donnes Good Morrow by heart
And I can hike a mountain without complaint.
Ok, maybe not a mountain, just a large hill.
But I’ll run down it like a mountain goat
And I’ll put my hands in every stream and all the rivers
Just hoping it will wash something clean.
You might catch me counting umbrellas in the rain
Or tracing raindrops lifelines down window panes,
Because even the smallest of journeys deserves a witness.
There will be times I listen without hearing,
Or speak without thinking,
But I will always try to be the better side of myself.
I carry a nature book around with me,
Hoping I’ll come across something new
On those late summer walks
And just like that I will know something you don’t.
It is not to be better than you though,
I don’t think that could be possible.
I just need to feel a forward motion.
I like the music turned right up, so loud you can feel it
So loud that I can’t hear the me in my head
It’s an odd type of silence that follows.
And I have an annoying habit,
of assuming I know just what you will say
So I will always try to say it first.
I never get it right…
I’ll fill notebooks and pages and post its with words for you to read
And then I will hate that I ever showed you
But we can make forts out of duvets,
Spend afternoons hiding from the outside world,
Share all our secrets when we are safe within its down feather walls.
Then when morning comes back around I’ll cook you breakfast,
But don’t look at me like that when it’s burnt.
Even though I will never want to
If you ask, I’ll show you all my messy bits and hurts.
They may look too vast or too shallow
To eyes like yours that aren’t familiar with the traumas that caused them
But I dare you to ever call me broken
Even in the secret parts of your mind you keep from me.
I love to prove people wrong.
They say I have walls built up inside
Ones of brick and mortar
And the discarded memories of thing that once hurt
It seems odd to me, to think of them there
When I know I can cling too tight and love too hard.
Never the less, I must admit to secret parts
If you want, I’ll show you the weak spots,
I’ll even pass you the hammer.
So no, I may never be a pretty one.
But I like to think that doesn’t stop there being hidden treasures underneath.