Sincerely October

Kaleidoscope - Knowledge

K words for dictionary poetry.

Kaleidoscope
The truth folds in on itself and changes and contradicts itself one hundred times over.
The truth is found until it changes its mind, until it becomes too big and broad to live with.
This is what I know to be true until I change my mind by sunset.
Tell me what you believe and I'll believe it, that is until I am left on my own.
I don't know what I think for myself, I don't know what's true.
Where do I draw the line? Where does this end? Where do I begin?
I know more than I used to, so I can only hope I'll know more as time passes, but for now I am lost.
What is the truth? Do I already know it? Will I ever be able to accept it as my own or it is forever too big enough to swallow?

Keen
In writing I capture the moments in time that slowly add up to being my life, the rain and sun that keeps my flowers blooming.
I gain perspective and see that everything is fleeting and ever changing, nothing lasts forever.
During my little dark age I captured my pain, turning an ache in my chest into pages of metaphors.
It aided in the process of releasing the things that were too heavy to hold onto, it gave me a place to put them down.
Writing helps turn my darkest hours into something ephemeral, another chapter that will soon be over.
In the periods of happiness writing has served a purpose as well, writing prevails long after my pain does.
I capture my life and all its beauty, the moments I fought for have been found and lived through. This helps me become aware that even during the loneliest evenings there is something worth sticking around for.
In my writing I am to see who I really am and how I have changed. I see what dominates my thoughts and days, I see how I really feel, I see what leaves me elated and what leaves me aching.

Keeper
Out of everyone I've ever met he is one of the kindest and most understanding.
When I was falling apart, when he had no reason to stay, he stayed.
Even when I needed to be better, even when I was failing to do so, he stayed.
Most people would have left by then, but he didn't, and for that I am forever grateful.
I feel as if I could tell him anything, I have told him everything, even the things I am ashamed of, even the things I find unacceptable about myself.
He sees the world through eyes without judgment, without a list of things that are unloveable.
He is a survivor, he kept on trying even when he didn't think it would ever be worth it.
He fights for his happiness, and everyday I hope the fight is worth it.
He strives not only to be happy but to make others happy, your smile is just as worthy as his.
With him I never question if he is telling the truth, he says what he means and means what he says. I have never felt lied to or deceived.
He is unapologetically himself, authenticity drips from his fingertips like honey.
In every moment of my life I am grateful that he is a part of it.

Keepsake
I will keep my memories close to my chest, I'll hug them and hold them in my heart because when the sunsets I know there is very little worth forgetting.
I'll make my video diaries every day, I'll talk to my camera about what I did with my time today, I'll take videos at the zoo and when I win at cards. I'll ramble about how today was better than yesterday and make covers out of newspaper clippings and colorful photos.
I'll carry my journal with me everywhere I'll go. I'll write pages about how I ache, I'll write photographs of today's joy, I'll doodle at the top of every page. I'll finish it and add to the stack of notebooks on my nightstand.
I'll collect trinkets that remind me of concerts and walks around the neighborhood. I'll keep my friends' drawings and little writings of mine. The items hold memories within them.
I'll write poems about my best days and my darkest hours. I'll spend hours trying to capture what it's like to be me today and yesterday.
The happy times, the lonely times, the dark times, it's all a photo of a life worth saving.

Key
When you miss the drugs, remember why you chose to stop. Play the tape through of all that would come of this. It's never one more time.
Follow after the things you love with everything you have in you. Once you have it don't let it go. Don't worry about being too excited and passionate, there's no such thing.
The truth takes up space even if it is unspoken. Ignoring the truth will not change it. Find out how you can be as authentic as possible.
Chase after what makes you happy, even if they judge you, those who really love you will not dislike such vital parts of you.
Live in a way you don't think you'll regret. Read about the regrets of the dying, it's not what you'd think. Will you die knowing you could have been more?
Life is not a race. Wherever you stand is where you're meant to be. It doesn't have to look how it looks for everyone else.

Kid
It seems no matter how tall I grow there is a part of me that is still a child, a child that wonders if he will get hurt tonight, a child who hurts because he never got the childhood he wanted.
I know the abuse is over but a part of me died that day.
Admitting that this left me in pieces is an ache in my chest.
No matter where I go I will always have a frightened child within me.
I am not consumed like I once was, I know I am not what happened to me, I never was, but a part of me is still mourning.

Kind
I start to wonder if I'm the type of person who gets better in a way that matters.
What is there left to say? How would I say it? Would I regret it in the end?
It's easier when they don't know, I feel naked when they can see all of me. The words translate to judgements and press on the bruises of what already aches.
I find it easier to be what people would prefer me to be, why go through the trouble of explaining that I'm still in the same hole I've always been in.
I want to get better, I put forth quite a lot of effort, but some people don't get better, and it won't be because they didn't try. I am trying. How could I tell you this without sounding like I'm not?
I start to wonder if I'll be getting better or getting quieter.

Kindle
When you find it, refuse to let it go, let it consume you.
Let yourself talk about it too much, ramble on even when you know no one's listening.
Do it when you wake up in the morning, do it late in the night, do it when you're riding in the car, fill every passing moment with it.
Consume everything and anything related to it, pour yourself into the books written about it, listen to others ramble about it, let it become the loudest aspect of your life.
Let it define you, let yourself become known for the things you love.
Feed the fire burning in your stomach.

Kindred
You understand the desperation, you know what it's like to give your life away and not even care. You know what it's like to get sick without it. You know the feeling of watching yourself turn into someone you barely know because of the drugs. We have both had to quit before it killed us. You know what it's like to be left shaking and empty without it.
You have felt the highs and lows I have felt. You know what it's like to go nights without sleeping and feel more elated than you ever thought you could. You know what it's like to fly through the clouds and trees only to wake up in a hole. We have both felt that hollow feeling I have grown used to.
You know the feeling of not wanting to get better. I've become used to this, and it seems you have too. I have struggled to find happiness in the same way you have.
We both write poems about what it's like, telling the same story using different words. You and I have lived very different lives yet I still find myself being more understood by you than anyone I've ever met.

Know
I used to not believe in god.
I wondered how there could be a god in a world where a child goes to bed afraid that she will be hurt by an unwelcome visitor, a visitor who she thought loved her.
I still believe that god was not there that night. No god of mine would let a child go through such pain. No god of mine would leave someone so small wondering why he never listened.
I believe there is a god, a god who loves me, a god who guides me and helps me find my way.
Maybe god was not in that room, but I believe god was there when she asked if anyone ever hurt me when I was younger.
God helped that woman pull the stories out of me. God helped me learn to live with it.