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I thought I could write a poem, have it capture the emotional state I’m in and let it sit on a site for days on end while I pretend like what I wrote isn’t just the half of it.

I thought I could use metaphors and similes and hyperboles to explain away the shadows that creep along my subconscious if I sit in silence for too long.

I thought I could do challenges to distract me from the draft on my phone begging for attention because it’s not quite finished.

There are fears I stuffed down in the basement of my mind because handling my emotions makes me feel weak because too many people have taken them, broken them, and handed them back to me in pieces thinking they’ll work the same.

There are remnants of unbridled passion swirling around in my heart while my desires swing like a pendulum between going after what I want or waiting for it to happen on its own.

(There’s a special section for the woman I love where it vibrates at such a high frequency sometimes I can’t breathe and sometimes it’s silent like the calm before the storm where the mere mention of her name sends lighting through my veins as my body trembles from the thunder.)

There are knots, weights, and butterflies fighting for dominance in my stomach because not once has my gut been wrong when it mattered the most but the guilt of making decisions that are good in the long run always comes back around because in my efforts to be a better version of me I had to burn bridges and breaks hearts to get there.

There is smoke still wafting off my fingers after I pulled the trigger and shot the bullet that would embed itself deep within someone I once believed would be forever.

(But damn if forever doesn’t come with fine print attached to the contract and damn if a forgotten amendment doesn’t come back to bite you in the ass because all you saw was the bottom line and not everything above it.)

There’s blood on my hands from the nights I spent stripping away at the mask I’d been wearing for so long, hiding behind a persona that couldn’t speak without asking for permission; that apologized for demanding attention and respect; that agreed to live the life of a pretender instead of breaking free.

There’s the lies on my lips from the moments I held back, held on, or let go too soon that taste of acid each time I swallow my opinions, my beliefs, my expectations.

But most importantly, there’s the look in my eyes that reflects the emotional hurricane whipping through my heart and soul, sweeping all the fears, hesitations and past heartaches out to sea.

In the midst of my chaos, I found answers in the places I least expected and my peace walks on clouds with love in her heart.

I thought writing a single poem would get all of that out of my system but I was wrong.