this is me in wet shoes climbing up silky rivers.
i am foolish, i am the fool. i stranded myself on a mountain top at the farthest edge of oakland. i read poems to a raven that was plucking the guts out of a mouse. so fucking dramatic. but, if i sang too loud, if i opened up my chest and beamed too bright it’s only because everyone already sees it anyway. it drew a hungry crowd and they say it’s brave, but really i am just unafraid of love.
but now i am moon beaming love hues in darker blues.
i am so stupid. and i am so glad to be so stupid. i know better, if only by experience, that this is the surest way to get hurt, to be used, exploited, and neglected. my best romance tells me that it’s real when someone asks you to sing louder. but that was once, and a long time ago. and i also know, if only by experience, that the very best things require patience, hunger, and come with time.
have you ever felt certain about something that is so impossible to be certain about? it teaches you temperance, and if you’re lucky, it teaches you faith.