And we were these beautiful things [6-03-12]

If you were cereal

I’d keep you in my cupboard.

Your box said you contained

many valuable nutrients

I guess I believed this as true.

I’m positive you gave me

something I needed

but your predictability,

it stifled me.

The human race is a monotonous one.

You don’t believe me?

How is it, then

in each car I pass

driver’s affixed their gazes

on nothing but a blank

line of thought.

Emotionless each sits.

Lack of the sensations leaves us well, boring.

They pass me.

And soon I find I am one of them too

but the rain on my windshield,

it glitters.

I fight the windshield wipers

cleaning my slate

because remembering, it hurts

but the more you know

the stronger you grow

a memory it changes.

But you too. How will you see this?

I move with my feet

but dance with my blood, my bones, my skin

I dance with the ends of my hair

tangled in the wind.

One can find rhythm in soft impressions

filled with sunlight.

Shadows are sources of discovery.

Haven’t you noticed?

My friend, she’s a book

and it’s quite compelling.

Yet why can I climb through

shelves of libraries covered in layers of soft dust.

People are meant for unraveling, opening, learning.

We are books.

I hope you understand.

We are the sound of breathing

quietly in your ear, a whisper.

We are the canvas for a raindrop

to crawl over.

We are the muscles I remembered

from the time

we ran until the sun.

We were these things

yes, many beautiful things.