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#7

2nd

I'm from

Jul 4, 2015

884

1 Min Read 218 Words

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I’m from dull October evenings

Of a light drizzle against a hospital window

Of a tidy room and its sole occupant

And a man who waited outside with roses.

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I’m from endless skies and not enough crayons

From hand-me-downs and bouganvillae

The patter of feet on a gravelly path

And humming that filled the air like perfume.

888Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNXxTVSw5LE

I’m from cardboard boxes

Duct tape and the smell of ink

From home to home to home

And decades old furniture

That’s stood the test of time and fate.

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I’m from the dust between pages

From thumbprints on spines

From pale limbs and sunshine

That streams in on lazy afternoon.

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I’m from words that scarred

And some that healed

From words treasured in velveteen journals

And forgotten on newspaper margins

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From laughter and smiles and sighs and tears

From a solitary soul in a crowded room

I’m from my dreams, and from my fears

I’m who you do not always see.

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I’m from darkness that seeped into the light

Indigo nights, lavender mornings

And cottony clouds, that caressed my wounds

And hope that tomorrow will dawn a little brighter.

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I’m from what I made of myself

And some of what they made of me.

A/N – I’ve never dabbled much in poetry, but this was a fun exercise! One of my most honest pieces to date – I hope you’ll like it!

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