I Am Me

I am the leaves in the trees and the critters that crawl when the sun is sleeping, the pleasant and gentle wind that tangles through your hair, the writhing of your toes in the warm sand. I am the reason every kiss feels like the first, the exhilaration in his eye when he sees you. I am the lighthearted laughter you don’t recall enjoying this much, the naïve i-love-yous And the intensity of that summer fling, the haze of the days when it all seemed so simple. I am those forbidden late-night phone calls, and sneaking out in the small hours, that unforgettable feeling of fleeting beauty and the man in the moon: through crater eyes I watch heartbreak sneak up on you. I am the delicate complexity of the web and how effortlessly it can be destroyed, just as trust and hope can be broken with the flick of a wrist. I am the uplifting optimism of a young girl laughing for a world with distressing simplicity. She knows not the ugliness it has yet to offer her. I am snow, crystallized beauty, graceful gaiety in its finest, mindlessly drifting through its short life, soon to join the others, the fallen soldiers. I am secrets, utterings you hear in the night. I am the beast under your bed, waiting patiently for you to rest your feet near, so I can consume you, coil my way around your chine And grey the flame in your eyes. I am fear, loneliness, depression, addiction, mutilation. I am recovery, refuge, renewal. I am your worst and your best. But never your only.