Busy Wings

I watched as a man stood near me, talking to a bee, trying to let it wash itself before he captured it to let it outside

In thise few moments, I thought about all of those times I failed to let insects be themselves, they are hust babies trying to navigate the world just as we are

We can learn so much about the world through all of the crawling and flapping of the wings, if we just paid nore attention

Writings From The Cafe

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Q-Tip Ideas

I used to clean my ears so much
and I didn’t understand why until today

I was trying to push the voice that told me that I was better off falling in my own, through to the other side

I’d wet the end of a q-tip, hoping the water would drown out my thoughts, instead it made them float

Rocking

I’m being rocked back and forth like the cradle we were all warning children about

But instead of falling out, pieces of me were already missing, clinging to the insides of a tree’s bitter fruit

I’m still yearning to be held like an abandoned kitten left at the side of the road, only my family is still here

I’m trying to see if the tides will tie me over with their frightening charm, but I’m slowly breaking my own neck looking back at my old self

Straining my ears from pushing my own voice down them to see if it’ll slither out the other side

I just want to cry without being sad and laugh without anger

Irony Destroys

​Oh the irony of trying to balance on a metal beam attempting to cross the bridges you once partially destroyed
No thanks to you, I’m fumbling again

And thanks to you, I’m finding myself again

And thanks again, I’m figuring out how to pick up back where I was before you
I was told once that, people have lived a life time before they met a certain person and that they can learn to do it again without them

And here I am, with a little care, moving upwards and onwards, with or without you

Bue

No one is you and I keep looking for you in things that aren’t even there.
No one is you and I keep creating hopes from your past words and making them feel like you recently said them to me.
No one is you and I keep thinking that you’ll want me even though you’ve made it clear that you don’t.

I’ve said things to you that I’ve said to millions of other people and I’ve met people like you but at the same time, you differ from them and I can’t quite put a name on it.

I’m not inlove with you, and sometimes I see similar signs that I portrayed in the past with an obsession I had with that person for 4 to 5 years with you and sometimes I’m I confuse reality and fantasy with you.

You are not mine, but I keep calling you my boy, my bue, mine. You are not my boy, not mins, but you are my bue and you hold a bigger place in my heart and take up more space in my head and consume more of my body than most people.

No one is you and I keep looking for someone to be you because I can’t have you.

No one makes me feel how you make me feel

Root Jungle

I didn’t ask to be birthed into the world as roots without a purpose

I did not know that I’d eventually become tangled in a mess of leaves from branches I grew from the dirt itself

I didn’t think I’d ever even make it as anything but a jungle with too many paths

But I have somehow come up with more vines to swing on and a sturdy foundation, I’ll get there

Galaxy Black

You liked me because I wasn’t just showing black

Instead, I showed a ray of different galaxies

You needed me until the light drained from my flesh and my bones brittle

Now I’m here trying to stumble my way through a web of self hatred and weak moments

I’m here watering my own mind and attempting to grow out of my old shell