Unassuming, she bides her time,
slumbers curled in on herself,
potentiality’s vibrations encapsulated,
resonance her twilight lullaby.
Dawn breaks warm,
night’s chill melting away,
absorbed as nourishment;
she stretches languidly,
testing the confines of her quilt,
unfurls pink and fresh and strong,
face to sun; rising, ready,
sweet perfume on autumn air.

Style Score: 100

A letter to my childhood:
You are so lucky.
You’re smarter than even you know.
You are so loved. 
Hug your parents more.
Hug your grandparents more.
Hug everyone you love more. 
Don’t take family for granted; you’ll miss them when they go.
Know that you are safe, even when the words don’t always make you feel that way.
Read everything; it makes you happy.
Never stop learning.
Don’t let mom cut your hair…

A letter to my teens:
You don’t have to look like everyone else; embrace your individuality.
You shouldn’t cry just because you have a healthy human body.
Love yourself, especially when it feels like no one else will. 
Your voice matters, so keep writing; use it to get everything out.
Someday someone will want to hear it.
Keep reading; it still makes you happy.
Cherish your childishness; hold it close for as long as you can.
Don’t date the bad boy; even when he’s better, he still won’t be good for you. 
I know it’s not just a phase, but sometimes it is.
And didn’t we already say don’t let mom cut your hair?

A letter to my 20s:
Your body will never be the same; the accident made sure of that.
But remember we said not to cry about being in a healthy human body 
Why did you stop reading if it made you happy?
It’s okay to like things he doesn’t; you don’t have to force yourself to fit him.
Complacency is not contentment, and contentment is not joy.
You are not stuck.
You owe nothing to anyone.
Letting go isn’t failure or weakness or selfishness.
You don’t have to go back to something that doesn’t work just to make sure it still doesn’t work.
And isn’t there anyone you can trust with your hair?!

A letter to my 30s:
Alcohol doesn’t make things fun after you wake up sober.
Being single is hard, but dating is harder.
You are not cut out for online dating.
Passion can be fleeting, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it.
Remember, though, that butterflies are actually anxiety. 
Excuses are not attractive.
Young is dumb, and dumb is dangerous.
Looking is not liking, and it most certainly is not love.
You still shouldn’t date the bad boy. 
You already know how to let go. 
You’re an adult, and it’s time to figure out how to be one on your own.
And, no, there’s no one you can trust with your hair.

A letter to this past year:
Therapy works.
Just because your anxiety was right before doesn’t mean it always is.
Peace is paradise, not boredom. 
Stillness and solitude are the sacred foundations for your creativity.
Travel is more than just a temporary escape from life.
You are a professional, and you deserve to take up qualified space.
You can write.
You can share.
You can be part of a safe community.
You can learn to build a better life outside of what you’ve always known.
Live at your own pace.
Move your body in ways that make you smile.
Enjoy your food, and let it nourish you, too.
Learn to trust and love again; he’s worth it.
And bless all that is holy because we finally found someone who knows what to do with your hair!

A letter to the future:
Progress isn’t linear. 
You’re still lucky.
You’re still loved.
You’re still smarter than you know.
You’re never stuck.
Love others hard.
Love yourself harder.
Love the life you intentionally create.
It’s always okay to explore new ways.
It’s always okay to have a voice.
It’s always okay to let go.
Keep reading.
Keep writing.
Keep sharing.
Keep learning. 
And someday you’ll finally figure out how to do your own hair.

(100% Style Score)

New years are meant for starting over
Beginning clean and new
Unless you’re of the queer persuasion
And your government’s against you
Then blossoming becomes a struggle
As you strain simply to bloom,
Crushed under heels of persecution
Swept under rug by bigoted broom
The seeds we sow in ‘25
Require roots down deep, robust
If we’re to thrive and survive,
Under a dictator we can’t trust
To blossom sounds lovely indeed
But queer friends we must burst,
Break barriers and far exceed
Hoping for best, planning for worst

89%

If I Warned Me
If I warn of heartbreak
What risks will I take?
If I warn of vulnerability,
I’ll then conceal what others see.
If I warn of uncertainty,
Will I, too timid, ever be?
I’ll choose to live in mystery
Betwixt the fiery sparks that flee
In the rhythm of life’s spontaneity
Sans warnings from the likes of me

100%

Dear New & Improved Me,

As I take a moment to reflect on our journey, I feel compelled to share my thoughts and wisdom from the version of me that once was. Though I may feel distant, I am very much a part of who you are today.

First, let me commend you. You’ve shown remarkable courage in shedding self-doubt and the weight of others’ expectations. I remember when we hesitated to speak our truth, fearing disappointment. But look at you now embracing authenticity and pursuing passions that once seemed unreachable! Nurture that brave spirit; it’s one of your greatest treasures.

Remember the importance of self-compassion. We were our harshest critics, plagued by negative thoughts like storm clouds. But you’ve learned to transform those inner dialogues into supportive conversations. Keep that up! When you stumble, treat yourself with the kindness you would offer a dear friend. You deserve that love.

Don’t forget the power of connection. I see how you’ve built a network of friends and mentors who uplift and inspire you. Cherish these relationships as they are mirrors reflecting your growth. Continue to nurture these connections as they will guide you through life’s inevitable challenges.

Embrace your fears, new me. Don’t shy away from them. They are not your enemies but signposts pointing you toward growth. Each time you step outside your comfort zone, you expand your possibilities. Remember that exhilarating moment when you conquered a fear? Keep chasing those feelings!

Stay curious! The old me often felt stagnant and trapped in routines and cycles. Now, I see you seeking new experiences and learning with an open heart. This curiosity fuels your creativity and keeps your spirit vibrant. Never let that flame dim; explore new interests, read voraciously, and embrace the unknown.

Lastly, remain grounded in gratitude. It’s easy to get swept away in the pursuit of more and forget the gifts of the present. Reflect daily on what you appreciate, no matter how small. This practice will anchor you through storms and remind you of the beauty that surrounds you.

As you move forward, know it’s okay to evolve. The journey may twist and turn, and uncertainty will arise. Trust your ability to navigate life’s complexities you possess an inner strength that can weather any storm!

In closing, I want you to know how proud I am of you. You are a testament to growth, resilience, and the power of self-love. Carry the lessons of the past but don’t let them define you. The future is bright, and I can’t wait to see how you continue to shine.

With all my love,
Your old self

My dear,

You had everything figured out. Or rather, in your time, you have everything figured out. I mustn’t envy you for it. I made my decision now. I made my decision proud – to be who I want to be with little to no direction. A poet with spare change. It’s not enough to buy a coffee, but my tongue flickers at the thought of this manifestation.
Darling, you scrape every corner for change to buy your cat some food and yourself a can of spaghetti. You pour yourself a glass of wine and give thanks for what you have. You can make and buy yourself a coffee, and you’re holding down a corporate 9-5. Nothing is uncertain for you. Nothing but your relationships is uncertain for you. Nothing but your next meal may seem uncertain for you, but you know you’ll head to the corner store tomorrow for a snack or two.
I can be nothing but proud of you. I am proud of your growth, and I know that you are, too. You say it almost every day. You should be most proud to say that you will not move on without grace. Before you leave this apartment, you’ll thank every corner of it for your stay. Then, you’ll move on to another and create memories that you didn’t expect to create.
Darling, this time especially is uncertain. I almost wish I could warn you of it. Our corporate 9-5 is no longer ours. Honestly, it never was. The life that we are manifesting is creating destruction. Yes, this time is uncertain. Ironically, it brings happiness and rebellion, and with this you are creating abundance without knowing. At least, that’s what you’re being told.
Messages are delivered to you through symbolism. Although confusing, your intuition translates the message for you. It says, “ This change is more intimidating than the first, but this incoming blessing will show you what it’s worth.”

Lovingly,
Your Future Self

59% Style Score

For the longest time, my garden was in a drought

Sometimes I thought I wasn’t meant to grow

Every time I had a drip of success, I would not follow up with more

Inconsistent, not believing I can achieve anything

Having limited beliefs kept me at a level only I could seeI guess eye level, some would say to me,

The sum (some) was the voices of doubt in my head

Subtracting my motivation having divided on what should I do

Leaving me feeling empty with no rest in sight multiple times

That was a fraction of the time, actually that was most of the time

Alright, it was like 99.9%

The whole time (100%) well, the entire time I would lie to everyone, including

My-self, I that was fine

But II’ve could not hide the sadness in my eyes

Blur vision from the tears I’ve cried behind closed doors

Now look at me, blossoming, me

Before I felt the thrones on my side until I rose to the occasion

Poured into myself, not letting those seeds of ego and pride get me down

Having loved one’s check on my progress when I would forget to water my plant

Boundaries allowed me to finally love me and set the standard of what I will and won’t tolerate

It changed my life

As I am writing this piece, I cried

But I used these tears to grow the confidence in me, the unwavering belief in me

I got this

Only I can stop this and won’t stop until I am at the top of whatever I want to accomplish

Lately I have been practicing meditation, Namaste

The new me wants to take over the stubborn old me is like no Ima stay

It is a constant battle of will, will I or won’t I change

The new way of thinking and doing things still has me afraid

But the old way of doing things would always be a destructive path

I wanted a way out, and I found it finally

Well, I am not there yet. It is an ongoing thing.

Never was i expressive emotional. I would let things spill over.

Bottling up feelings of anger, resentment and not allowing anyone to

Not even me, even with a key I would deny entry

I need to heal

I needed to feel but for the longest I was numb to it all

Now I feel it all. I am working on the challenge of balance

I am proud of who I was and who I am now because even at my worst,

I still knew ill be here somehow

Not allowing the past to define me, but more so to inspire me

Showing me who I should and should not be

I saw the spot of hope even in my darkest times

With support from my family telling me everything is going to be fine

Loving the inner child in me and telling him it’s going to be alright

I love you, Isaac

I love myself too

How can an old me exist in the past?
Or does this prompt require me to fast
Forward
A message in a bottle from my sequel
Versions of “I” and “me” deemed unequal
Jagged glass, tossed about the sea, deemed polished
An unavoidable trajectory praised or admonished
Am I ever new, if perpetually used?
If the old us is younger, are we not confused?
Bemused
The past and future writing in the present tense.
Therefore I choose, to write from the end. Stanzas stacked, likely not to comprehend
(Lest you choose to read from the end to here. Or both, for you have free will, my dear)

Your dear friend
The older, new me, most sincere
I’m typing it early, for this hemisphere
I hope this doesn’t reach you too late
The last we spoke, “is not” wasn’t “ain’t”
Do you still like to paint?
An emotional state of inclusivity
Your interpersonal, personality
An ephemeral state of relativity
Will be
The small that you were, and you are, and
Or plummeting down hill
From slowly ascending
Glad to see you still find a thrill
Lie
Yet the imagery of a heart, is a symmetrical
The muscular breakdown of a thigh
Similarly, the tension of a bicep
Our chest
Inside
How strange to know what a heart looks like
Stare
You’ve observed, despite being told not to tear
You’ve stretched knowing that you could
Omnipotence
Accepting a life in pursuit of infinite
Ignorance
My how you’ve found bliss, devoid of
Good evening, self

-Load the car and write the note-

Moving out was terrifying. I enjoyed the first few weeks in my apartment alone.
I was rarely alone when I was with my ex. I depended on him. To get to school, to get to work, to get to rehearsal, to eat, to have a place to sleep, etc, etc. I had to pay a price for all of that. Nothing comes for free.

-Grab your bag and grab your coat-

I remember leaving his house for the last time. I packed that morning as fast as humanly possible. I forgot a lot of things. He kept begging me not to leave, I kept begging to go. I got dressed in my own clothes for the first time in a hot minute. Normally I just grabbed his because mine were always trapped behind the headboard.
I didn’t know it was the last. His hand curved into my inner thigh, the country road we had driven on for nearly two years rolled by until it disappeared into the highway. He dropped me off and my parents greeted him warmly, and hugged him and I think I realized then I hated him.

-Tell the ones that need to know-

My best friend and I got together a little after I got home so I could tell them everything about my ex and I.
And this guy I just met.

Their mouth was agape the whole conversation. I told them I didn’t think my ex was a bad guy, Cole said that was because I haven’t experienced a good one yet.I told them about this guy I met and there was hope in their eyes.

What if this guy was lulling me in with false promises like everyone else before?

-We are headed north.-

We broke up. He left me. I finally reached out to this guy and… the rest is just confetti.

-One foot in and one foot back-

I open up a little just to resend everything I just said. I’ve been told before that I’m “too much” and yet somehow, “not good enough,” at the same time.

I had two people I adored when I was growing up. They were my best friends. They weren’t the best of friends.

One of them called my self harm scars “stupid people scars.” Said I was only doing it for attention, though I never intended for anyone to see them. If I wanted to be effective I should just full-send it and make the little white lines vertical. I opened up to him only for him to say I was too much and that I was crazy and occasionally throw it back in my face.

-But it don’t pay to live like that-

When we were in high school, he caught my ex hitting me, he stepped in and tried to get me out.
When I was going through the worst of my disordered eating habits, he bought me food and sat with me.
He confused me. I believed in my heart he loved me. I still do. I think he just didn’t know how to love right. When he met his boyfriend and they fell in love, I think the two of them learned from one another. They’re still very happy together in their own place. We don’t talk, but, the last time we did, he said that he hopes I get everything I want out of life. And that he’ll be there. His boyfriend and him are planning to get engaged.
I think my boyfriend and I could be like that.

-So I cut ties and I jumped the track-

When we stopped talking, my best friend and I got closer and I got happier. Stress about extracurriculars and homework was all I had to worry about. Life was good. My senior year of highschool was one of my favorite periods of my life.
The other is right now.

-Never to return-

-Oh, Brooklyn, Brooklyn, take me in-

I met my boyfriend at a summer camp. We were both counselors. The counselors were all talking about this, that and the other. I initially wanted to get out of there, but this guy I had just met started talking about video games designed to be difficult.
I was on a Fear and Hunger kick, I hoped he would know the game. He didn’t. He said it reminded him of another game, I said that it reminds of a book, and so on and so on.
Suddenly thirty minutes pass and I’m sitting on the table in the makeup room talking candidly about life, books, video games and art with someone who might as well have been a stranger. But I was hooked.

He looked at me with a kind of recognition that you don’t see terribly often. Like he already knew me. The strange thing was, I felt like I knew him too.

-Are you aware of the shape I’m in?-

When I started having panic attacks at camp, I was fucking embarrassed. I had kept my composure in front of strangers all my life, until right then.

He came in— and I guess he wasn’t really a stranger. He coaxed me through it, though anxiously because he was paranoid about how people would take it. Us— in a room— completely alone.
I could not help that I was drawn to him. I let him see that I was not infallible. I felt closer to him every second we spent together.

Is that wrong of me?

-My hands, they shake, my head, it spins-

We were watching the play at Pocket Sandwich Theater and I knew I needed to make that leap. Just to take his hand.
My brain kept screaming this could just be another game. He could be saying all these sweet words and writing all these beautiful poems just to lure me in.

It wouldn’t be the first time. My first boyfriend told me his dream was to be a teacher with me, and that students would think we were adorable.
He told me after we had been dating for nearly a year that his dream was to take my virginity.

My most recent ex told me his dream was to go to Chicago and be a famous actor, and to have me waiting at the stage door for him.
But what about my stage door? Would he have ever shown up?

But my heart was so sure with this guy what I wasn’t sure with the others.
I could actually see a couple years ahead. It was messy and a little undefined, but the vision was there.

I took his hand. The momentary shock as my fingers laced around his, those beautiful grey and blue eyes widened like I had done something unfathomable.
The smile he gave me, as he wrapped his other hand around ours.

-Oh, Brooklyn, Brooklyn, take me in-

-When at first I learned to speak-

My mother said I learned to talk before I walked. My first word— well to be more accurate it was a sentence.
“Where is it?”
Ironic with my ADHD.

-I used all my words to fight-

I was a terrible person as a middle schooler. I was filled with rage and hormones and everything that I once knew changed.
I was filled with depression that I didn’t understand was depression.

I pushed my friends as far as they would go. I felt so guilty every time that I’d grovel and apologize. Rinse. Repeat. Suddenly not a little girl anymore. I hated myself. My friends didn’t understand. I hated them too.

I bullied, and I seethed, and I said things that I should have never thought, much less said. Much less believed to be true.

-Ah, but it’s just a waste of time-

My best friend and I went to a cabin out in the country for their birthday.
One night, we sat in the bed, and we cried. I apologized for everything I had done when I was a middle schooler. They did too.
We hugged.

-Yeah, it’s such a waste of time-

-Three words that became hard to say-

Fear is a nasty thing. Anxiety and depression too. It’s unfair that your own mind can want to not be alone, yet force you to be lonely. Then yell at you for it.

“I need help.”

Those became so hard.

“I miss you.”

I say those often to a lot of different people. My friends back home, my kids, my boyfriend. I miss them all, truly.

-I and Love and You-

I struggled to say it to my boyfriend when I knew I should’ve. It happened at the right moment that’s true and I’m very grateful for how perfect that first moment was. But—

There was a night where we were playing Minecraft together and I almost said it.

He was so excited about the house. He noticed all the little red details I put everywhere for him. He said no one had ever put such thought into surprising him with something.
I almost said, “it’s because I love you, duh.”
But I didn’t.

-I and Love and You-

I wanna be able to look in the mirror and not examine it. I want to see my features and smile.
I want to enjoy my face reflecting back at me.
I want to like it, to the point that I don’t even acknowledge it.

This morning I got up to take a shower before class. I peeled off my boyfriend’s shirt, and neatly folded it next to the sink. I looked up to grab a hair tie and—

I liked the way my body looked. I like the curvature of my waist, the shape of my breasts, the way my hair fell behind my shoulders even though it was a bit unkempt.

I liked my face. That’s the hard thing to like about myself. As an actor you spend so much of your time examining and painting your face. As an autistic person, I used to practice making facial expressions in the mirror to look more natural. I am so used to my face. Normally, I try to avoid staring at it.
But I looked at the color of my eyes, their asymmetrical shape, the fullness of my lashes—
I looked at my lips, redder and a bit drier than normal, they’re always a little more red after my boyfriend leaves cause his scruff scratches me—
I looked at my nose, I usually hate it. But today I thought, “I look nice.”

I think— I think everyday I get closer to it. Not by much, and it’s never consistent but it has happened more and more as the years go by.

I’m so close to looking in the mirror and saying it.

-I and Love and You-

My baby girl
With bouncing curls
You are the light of my life
Day and night
You bring sunshine and smiles everywhere you go
My heart aches with how much I love you so
I don’t know where I’d be
If there were no you and me
I can’t imagine a life without you
I honestly don’t know what I do
I’m so lucky to watch you grow
I love you more than you’ll ever know

In 2013, something horrid happened to me. It didn’t happen to just me, or affect me the most. It was a betrayal that left me and my children unsafe.

For years, I disregarded how this affected me as I focused on how it affected others I love. How it affected me became a small side story. So, for years, I didn’t bother acknowledging my personal hurt. I had huge obligations to assist others through their journey toward ok-ness. Those others are my children.

What happens then, if there is no ok-ness for me? I’m about to tell you.

The first thing was tears. It was about ten months of tears every night. By myself, alone. For all of us. In waves. During the day, I was raising kids. At night, I was grieving my wounds and losses.

Next came denial. Maybe we can live with this? After all, we aren’t dead and it’s surely been misery, but what’s the way out of misery? Others I loved chose denial, and it seemed to work for them. Some who got hurt are still using denial to cope.

One day, like a lifting fog, I realized denial costs too much. Almost immediately, intense anger replaced my denial.

It’s exhausting to be perpetually angry. Being the body of all-consuming anger is only useful if it leads to justice, and, sadly, it didn’t.

Numbness replaced the anger. God faded into meaninglessness. Emotions faded from red to pastel pink. The duty to continue to exist remained, and that was all I could manage.

For years.

For a decade.

I became a pale version of myself. I could function, raise kids, held down a complicated job. I paid my mortgage and took showers and cooked meals and taught my kids skills to live. Kind of.

If I could have been a better version of myself, I could have taught them more than the bits I managed. I guess I taught them to persevere. The struggle became normal. I thought I had pulled it off, this existing after horror gig. I believed I had healed. What I had actually done was to mute emotions and function in logic as a self protective mechanism. It was very effective; I felt functional. I had emotions, I just vetted them. Numbness was surviving. I felt safe enough to go on.

It took 11 1/2 years for me to fully face my healing. Finally, I could leave safe logic and dulled existence on the table to pursue a little authentic joy.

At first it was scary to feel emotions with some intensity. Emotions can lie! Slowly I let them lead me to some old loves: baking, drawing, building, painting, sewing, exploring, dancing, writing. Can I do it? For myself? And can I survive feeling it? Can I forge trusting relationships with others? Can I trust myself? The world is again wild with color, after so many years of color washed out by pain. Will I choose healing or familiar pain?

Not every day goes too well. Some days I retreat. This healing journey will take more time. But now, instead of hiding behind logic, I use creativity to process life, to feel myself heal, to be alive.

This is like waking from a trance. It is stepping back into my authentic self after an absence.

It is nice to recognize the person inside; although I am much older and much more worn, I have a hard fought value. I am here.

Style score 100%

I don’t really have to think what is blossoming in my life, 2025 is a growing year, You have a Drive that while you have BAD DAYS, yet You push on, You are working on Starting Your tire shop after hours and it’s GOING TO BE AMAZING, you DON’T QUIT, This year is Your year and GREATLY things are happening from a Dodge charger ( hemi motor) to your business will be running within a few months) The clowns are taking off , Who knows what else is going to happen, NOW is my time.

I have thought and thought about the old me , and honestly no matter how long I think or think of the old version, there’s no old version.I have watched myself and the younger me, and through it all, I have always faced obstacles and have always had to overcome from graduating early in school to your mechanic career, the younger me would say YEP you just got older but your drive GOT STRONGER, you never quit and at times Maybe you should have.You helped your family and Never backed down.GREAT JOB,IM PROUD of you.So in finishing, DON’T CHANGE, IM PROUD OF YOU

Do you remember me?
The girl you used to be, before, well… Everything I guess. I know you have blocked me out, and in a way I guess I don’t blame you, but from time to time I wish you would think about me.
Do you remember me?
I am quiet, kind, and spend a lot of time on my own. I wish you remembered that it’s not a bad thing to be alone. Not all company is good company, and if you aren’t content in your own presence, then why would you expect anyone else to be? I understand that your mind is a frightening place these days, but maybe running from the memories is part of what is making you hold onto them.
Do you remember me?
I am the girl that used to cry when I got in trouble, and I have an obsession with Barbie dolls. I wish you remembered how much I love to take care of them. You did the same thing with your daughters when you had them, and it would be better for them and you if you hadn’t worried so much about throwing your middle finger in the air at everyone for what they said about you as a mom as soon as you got a taste of rebellion and a bad attitude, and instead focused more on how you actually were as one. You really only proved them right in the end. For a while anyway.
Do you remember me?
I am dorky I guess. I go to plays with my Grandma, and play dress up with my cousins. Girls night with my friends are what I look forward to often. You wouldn’t know what that’s like anymore. You avoid Grandma because her dementia is getting worse and you know it’ll hurt less if you don’t see her much before she goes. Plus you couldn’t bear to see Papa like that. Nevermind the fact that family is probably the only thing holding him together. And girl friends? What the hell are those? You’ve given those up and replaced them with men. I wish you could spend a night with your best friend, sipping “happy tea,” and watching Anchorman, laughing so hard you cried. You might recall what it feels like to have a real kinship with someone that you don’t share a bed with.
Do you remember me?
I harbor innocence and imagination. The thought of even kissing the person that I like is enough to send shivers up my spine. I wish you would have slowed down in that area. I get it that things happened to you that made you bitter, scared, and angry. You didn’t have to be so easy though. No one will respect you if you don’t respect yourself. You aren’t a sex icon. You’re horny because you do drugs, and you became a hooker because you were poor and sick of living on the street. Just because you made a lot of money, it doesn’t restore your dignity.
Do you remember me?
I’m gentle and forgiving. Which is why even though I don’t understand what you’ve done, I still will forgive you. Someday. You’ve come this far, and you haven’t given up, so you should be proud of that. The world has become an ugly and evil place I guess, especially in the life you got wrapped up in.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I rushed you, and I’m sorry that I didn’t teach you to love yourself better. You may not have ended up in such a predicament. What do I know, though? I’m just a kid, and I’m only going off of the examples that have been set for me. It’s really crazy how we adopt the same behaviors that make us cringe when we are young. Anyway, I’m sorry that I didn’t give you the confidence in yourself to combat what was said about you with the girls, and I’m sorry that the me inside of you made you cower down when it came time to fight for them. It’s not over yet, and you have made a ton of strides in the right direction, but please, please remember. That everything you have worked so hard to build can be ripped away from you just as fast, if not faster. Don’t lose focus. And one last thing…. Don’t forget where you came from. Every now and again, if you could, just please try and think of me.

Style Score: 91%

Spoken word
I am heard
From paper to presence
Poetry has given me unlimited expression
I am free
Oh how I do love thee

To have no judgements
No expectations
Only speaking from my highest vibrations
I radiate my lungs
I embody every room in which I stand
Taking my audience on my journey with me
From ear to ear
Rather than hand to hand

To have aced every essay
To have read books in the summer
Who knew my calling was to be a poet or an author
No one shows you this is a feasible path
Discouraging you
Saying it’s impractical, unattainable
Only because they’ve never dreamed
of being outside an office or a cubicle
I won’t be naive, I won’t falter
Because for me this dream is anything but impossible

I love the way poetry makes me feel more myself
Every artist can tell you
It’s not for love of money
Not for approval or acceptance
With every note sung, brush stroke, or word spoke
We are emanating our deepest passions

We are the few unafraid to allow our hearts to shine through
To be vulnerable & bare
To conquer our fear of public speaking
Standing alone on this stage
Yet I don’t feel alone
Sharing my truth with others
Yet it’s safe
It feels like home

Cliché to say
But I’m thankful, grateful & blessed
I have found my passion
I withhold love for myself through my writing
& Perhaps call me old fashioned
But there’s nothing more sentimental
Than receiving a hand-written letter
Instead of this new age typing

It’s true paper will always beat rock
Because when my pen hits the paper
I fancy the way the ink glides
The world makes sense again
Writing letter by letter
Mastering my scribe
Curating every sentence
Every stanza
Every story with pride

My thoughts no longer jumbled
I can now see so clearly
I feel weightless
I feel untouchable
It has been my superpower for the world to hear me
Some people want to leave behind money or a legacy
For me—
I will have left my voice, my story

Oh poetry, I love & value thee
Thank you for being a safe place for me

Capturing the true essence of when

The love story began

I smile

Reminiscing on the rhymes

That made me laugh

Easy to create interesting patterns

Some so elementary

Yet so catchy

My words were my power

My emotions needed an outlet

My voice found a safe space

With each line

My love grew fonder

I felt more alive

Whenever I read my words

I was a bit surprised

A master in disguise

My pen was my secret weapon

The words I collectively gathered

Made me aware

That it wasn’t a mere coincidence

Once I started writing

I could never stop

Until I did for a brief period

When my mother passed away

I stumbled on a mental block

My passion had died

Until an angel came to rescue me

Reassuring me that I needed my own words

To revive me

My creativity had never left

I was lusting momentarily

But when my passion

Reminded me that the time was now

I knew that poetry was my true love

It definitely saved me!

You have always been here, haven’t you?
Soft, steady, waiting. Unnoticed but never absent.
You have known the weight of my body when I could not stand,
the nervous tug of sleeves over trembling fingers,
the hush of palms pressed against my chest,
as if you alone could keep my heart from breaking open.

You have held so much.
Tearstained pillows, quiet apologies, the ghosts of things I should have let go.
You have traced the spines of books that felt safer than people,
curled around the warmth of a teacup on nights that felt too long.
You have built and unbuilt—art, letters, love—
each stroke, each press, a silent rebellion against the fear of being forgotten.

And yet, I have not always been kind to you.
I have wrung you in worry, bitten you down to the bone,
clenched you into fists when all you wanted was to open.
I have blamed you for trembling,
when all you were trying to do was hold on.

But you—oh, you.
You never left me.
Even when I abandoned myself,
you turned doorknobs, signed my name, reached for the light.
Even in stillness, you moved. Even in silence, you spoke.

And here you are still,
writing these words,
building, reaching, proof that I have not stopped—
not really, not ever.

So I promise:
I will be gentler with you.
I will unclench, I will open, I will trust.
I will let you rest when you need to and create when you are ready.

You are not just my hands.
You are my history, my resilience,
the proof that I am still here.

And that is enough. That has always been enough.

My Dearest Communication,

From the moment I entered the world, before I could even form a word, you were there. The cries of a newborn, in the touch of a mother’s hand, in the unspoken language of your eyes, you made your presence known. you are not just a tool, not just a method, we are nothing without you. You are the silent force that moves the world, the unseen thread that weaves humanity together.

I have loved you in ways, I cannot describe, yet everytime I try, I realize that even the attempt itself is an act of loving you. You are the reason I exist with purpose, the force that allowsme to takethoughts from the depths of my mind and place them into the hearts of others. You are not just a speech, not just words on a page, you are an action, emotion, existence itself.

Everything I do, everything anyone does, begins and ends with you. A handshake, a glance, a carefully crafted letter, all of it is your expression. Without you, silence is not peace; it is a void. Without you, progress is not possible. What is leadership without words? What is love without expression? What is existence if not the constant exchange of signals, gestures, and messages that define our very nature?

You are not bound by sound, nor by sight, nor by language. You live in the subtlety of a raised eyebrow, in the rhythm of music, inthe blinking lights of technology speaking to one another. Every wave to a friend, every story passed down through generations, every revolution that has ever begun with the words, “enough is enough”, all of it is you.

You are the unseen architect of civilization. Without you, there are no laws, no literature, no connection between minds.

Every invention that has ever changes the world, started with you. A scientist speakes to his ideas before he builds. A writer listens to his soul before he creates. A lover whispers before they embrace. Everything begins with you.

And that is why I love you. Not because you merely exist but because you are existence , itself. You are the greatest power we have ever known.

So, I dedicate my life to you. Not just as a speaker, a writer, a thinker, but as someone who understands that without you, I am nothing.

With All My Heart,

William Joseph