Emerald

First page,

With a black pen in my hand,

I write some words down clumsily,

The words were soft and mellow,

And then turned into anger.

I couldn't stop,

Thought after thought,

I constantly felt that I am missing something,

But I never knew exactly out what it is.

A set of paints,

A certain pallette of colors,

All too poor,

To create the perfect picture of what was in my mind.

My body is a garden,

From bone and up,

Full of beauty and grace,

Yet so plain,

Compared to the memories,

I have sworn to never speak of again.

I am aware that,

I am less than what people prefer me to be,

But most people are unaware that,

I am so much more than what they see.

I have learned more about myself in solitude,

I have both driven myself crazy and found peace,

I love who I have been,

But I really love who I am becoming.

I no longer search,

The things that are meant for me will always flow to me,

"You attract what you are ready for",

I will just let things play out,

What's supposed to happen eventually will.

I am human,

I make mistakes,

I have weaknesses,

Study me as much as you like,

You will never understand me completely,

I differ in a hundred ways from what you see me to be,

I have chosen to be in a place where you can't see me.

I am not used to be loved,

I do not know what to do,

I feel a lot,

Like I ought to be feeling something I shouldn't,

I have always loved too much,

or not enough,

To love me is to love a haunted house.

It seemed that you knew me,

Like you understood anything that I have told you,

But the more we spoke,

The more I realized,

How different we were,

Or maybe I just thought you were different,

Silly me.

I have spent my life learning to feel less,

Learning not to hold onto something,

That I would expect nothing at all.

I regret that it takes a life to understand love,

I want to be loved and left alone.

I don't think that people understand the fact that life doesn't make sense,

I think it haunts people,

The fact that they can never figure things out.

An aeviternal situation,

A dilemma,

A puzzle missing out vital pieces,

A mesmerizing fuliginous painting,

A delusion,

Packed thoughts one over another,

Yet,

It could never sharpen the image I had in my mind.

A thought of idle desire,

A reverie,

I cannot know who I am,

Because I do not know which part of me is not me.

My mind is occupied by tenuous spiral stairs,

They lead to indistinct areas of my dispersed character,

It is where I have hidden all my secrets,

It is where I belong.

It has always been this way,

After I opened myself to someone,

I needed some time,

to restore my sense of privacy,

I have found it necessary to remain silent,

To not let anyone in.

I have found peace in writing some of what is going inside of me,

I have locked myself in an oblivion,

Going through the same emotions,

Going through us.

I take another sip of my coffee which turned cold,

And I sigh,

As I write the last page,

Last page,

I feel like I am missing something,

But I never know exactly out what it is.