I am this glorious f*cking mess. (poem)

                      be undone. fall apart at the seams & find your threadbare soul there.

I am this mess. 

I am these broken pieces that glisten in the sunlight. 

I am the chaos and falling apart that isn't pretty or cute. 

I am these words that pull me back to my heart. 

I am these seeping colors, a marriage of visions and thoughts and buzzing feelings. 

I am the hope that is spun in every flick of the paintbrush & typewriter when I just let myself GO. 

I am the red that becomes orange, and the calming presence of blue. 

I am rage and passion and the subtlest inhale of hope. 

I am expression, in all those ways that make no sense, because they don’t fucking need to. 

I am this roar. This whisper. This falling teardrop that becomes silver, tarnished, transmuted blessed by letting myself feel. 

I am a collection of impressions and the descent into darkness and the rising into light. 

I am becoming. 

Always. 

Never a finished product—or a product at all. 

I am in motion, a moving masterpiece of raw, human flesh 

Like the flourish of a cherry-red flamenco dress. 

I am the pure vulnerability of fear. 

“Never stop moving. 

Never stop expressing. 

It is who you are.” 

The only truth I ever need to remember... 

I meet the colors and they kiss me back on my open mouth. 

It is love. 

The kind of love that grows

Like sturdy emerald vines

Through everything. 

I am this glorious fucking mess. 

I hold my tears & let them pave the silver streets of my future. 

Streaming. Letting go. 

A gentle freedom rises

From the hot smoke of all this expression. 

Freedom. 

I taste it on my tongue forever. 

 

photo: pixabay.