she fell in love, though she never intended to.
she fell in love with something unexpected.
not a person, no, how silly would that be?
she fell in love with places and words.
she fell in love with words because you can say the same thing a million different ways and have it have a million different meanings.
she fell in love with places because she could always find beauty in buildings.
she didn't fall in love with the buildings downtown or the ones with the perfectly manicured lawns.
she fell in love with the buildings forgotten by time.
the ones with the busted in windows and glass scattered round all over the floor.
she fell in love with words once spoken by poets and words that spoke of love and realization and discovery.
she fell in love with authors and fictional characters.
she filled her shelves and her mind with these words and books in hopes that they would help her find herself.
she travelled to faraway places in hopes of it helping her find herself in some broken-down building in tennesee and the crows' nest of that treehouse sure did help.
she always saw beauty in broken buildings because they'd been put through hell.
they saw rebellious teens with spray cans tainting their walls with pointless graffiti, no matter how cool it looked, "she killed me and she'll kill you too", doesn't need to be on the wall at stonewall.
they saw the ever so lonesome person looking for shelter for the night.
they saw curious minds looking for a thrill.
they saw her come and go on so many occasions they lost count.
they saw her writing her heart out on the closet wall back in cottage five.
they saw her words and how they begged for a change.
she begged for forgiveness, hope, freedom and love.
all the things her heart yearned for.
she still writes about all of these things, but she's traded in dusty closets for a journal and a computer.
she can't remember the last time she felt the chill of an empty hallway or the wind whistling in her ears as she looked down at the level below her.
soon she'll have to make her escape to them.
you'd better hope i make it back.
YOU ARE READING
Behind My Eyes.
Poetrycome pick my mind and stay awhile, make yourself comfortable. it's awfully lonely in here. - inside this book, you'll find five distinct parts: simply me, which tells you almost everything you need to know about me. you, which tells you...
