to the poems sitting in my journal from high school / in the journal I got for my fifteenth birthday / the one with scribbles of significance sprawled out - / like my thoughts as i watched the clock / and i couldn't keep up with the ink bleeding from my brain. / who knew we could forage / such metaphors - / from a script, a fallen autumn leaf, an october's crisp night sky / a boy in a red jacket and glasses. / i learned from the words / i soaked into your skin and spine / that the remedy for unrequited love / is not another chestnut-haired and golden-eyed soul / that looks like him / or the next man that gives you a second glance / or a sleeping potion to sedate your aching heart, yearning for warmth - / but to pour sun-shower drops of love into your own soul, watching yourself / grow into a garden of you, every single day. / my beautiful, encapsulated memories written on the carcasses of trees that comfort me with their breath in solitude / recorded with a sweat-coated pen, to forever remind myself / of the steps i've taken / on the nights where only i / could pick my anchored, burdened self up. / these words have been the key / to unlock the cage / my anxious and fretting heart / has been trapped and frightened in all along.
