am I really?

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am I really the woman you see? strong, fierce, knowing. am I really all the stars in that night sky you live your days in? am I really all that?

it doesn’t feel right to value myself this way. I’m often outside of what I called my margins of comfort, the bitterness of my broken piano melodies emanating from the soulful wounds that never got to heal. I’m used to all of that, if not more. I’m used to constantly bringing myself down to the earth, so deeply bruised, unnoticed and invisible with all my might just to say in the dark.


but this is not what this love asks for me.


am I really receiving for the first time?


coating myself in glimmers, I shine for you. I come across as shy, and you wonder why. you wonder why I’m hiding. you wonder why I’m not more when you see that heart of me, ferocious waves at the foot of every shore. deep down, I’m so afraid. I’m afraid of messing up. I’m afraid I’m not so strong. I’m afraid I’m undeserving of all this grace and effortless pace. I’m afraid this is not what I’m here for.


but I know what lives in this soul of mine, love. I know that I could tear this whole world apart with a look in my eye. I know the servitude that beams so wild in my freedom’s waltz. the realness of it is so profound that I catch myself tearing up in disbelief. it’s the crisis of my faith, wondering what would have happened if you’d left me wondering all this time, in deep regret, imagining you while I danced with the ghost of you, missing who I was before. with you.


and it’s been years of tearing banners between you and I. years of proving what I could be. but once the proof is gone, all what’s left is me.


and am I really who you see? really? I grin and you can’t help but want to trust me. I don’t belittle the voice in you that screams so loud for it not to come back, but you do. you’ve surrendered with everything.


I miss you. I miss what I always needed. I miss what I’ve betrayed. I miss this laughter the world never heard. I miss what I missed underground, imagining the darkness a velvet coating the entire universe, imagining my blood a bath of roses, imagining the bruises a blooming oath of violets.


how was I really? from there it seems, I must dance.


going with grace in an inscrutable world.

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