I've been writing for a long time,
And any idea that comes to me
Comes out onto the page.
Something that always gets me
Is anything affectionate.
I've never been the best at it;
Love is, at best, foreign
And, at worst, terrifying.
Growing up in a household of "love":
Of anger, of isolation, of apathy
Shifts the meaning of love to be
Something not seen in media.
It's not love, that much I know,
But recognizing real love,
Especially when
It's been hidden for so long,
Will purport more lies than truth.
I'm still learning, of course,
And I'm attempting to understand
Love for what it is, not what it isn't.
Be patient with me.
I'm a slow learner.
YOU ARE READING
Imagine
PoetryA collection of poems, stemming from a girl being hopelessly in love, the recollection of her past trauma, and the impending unknown that her life will inevitably encounter. And within these moments is a world of her own, tangible and ever-growing...
