I am told it is time to write
Yet, sometimes, it seems I cannot bring my heart
Like there is a part of me that wants to contain it all.
Maybe, in the hopes that it will go away.
Maybe, in the hopes that it will always be there.
Nonetheless, it seems I cannot bring
pen to paper, fingers to keyboard.
Maybe, it is not the writing I’m fighting.
Maybe, I’m afraid of my own heart.
Afraid of what my heart will say,
Afraid of what my heart will feel,
Afraid of what my heart may reveal.
Because so many days of my life have been spent
diving into those days, those moments,
when i could not keep my head up.
could not lift my heart off the floor.
it’s easier to work, easier to dance,
easier to run, easier to hide