i cry out

i am

i am

i am what you call inhuman.

i am the definition of different, where you fill the crevices and cracks from the cement you created with lies,

i dive into them, finding a world with rainbows as sidewalks and raindrops as tears.

i am the fascinating aftertaste that sits on your tongue where words curve and conflate to form beautiful words like lilt, rapture, and love.

i am where fear cease to exist, where standing is easy but getting up is hard.

i am your peeling lips, bleeding with skinless joy.

i am the pit of a peach, unwanted, but waiting as abundance of more peaches grow.

i am the love that is free but have to contort to reach for it.

i am an apology that was said to fast or the laugh that was too loud.

i am the crumpled piece of origami or the split end of your hair.

i am where everybody is between life and death but,

i am closer to death; acquainted with the nearness of it, it's comfort lures me to come closer.

i am the 4th option of every decision, the silence of your tongue.

i am found behind backs and friends with finding better alternatives.

i am the testimony that ends up with tears and the lyrics you keep at heart.

i am the ending of the second book, less fulfilling than the first and the last.

i am the ending of your rapture, the unwanted feeling of such joy.

i am the tears you cry after a good day, the helpfulness you deserve but wasn't allowed to.

i am the gateway to break cliches or the small melodies your lips hold.

i am the questionable question you cannot ask.

i am the passionate yet not.

i am the 110% of commitment and the bad mistakes you don't regret.

i am the honesty in your lie, the child in your maturity.

i am the tongue twister, the remix of your song.

i am the tea that gotten too cold too fast.

i am the help you need but don't want.

i am myself, yet not.

i am me.