Inspiration Interpretation

I squeezed a post out forced it pushed it through the bars, like prison escapee... It didn't feel right- but then, good things never do. Tortured souls have far more to write far more to explore, more to complain, more to hang on to diving deep into inspiration, harbor seal searching for nourishment in the ocean For some reason, anger, depression and struggle translate more into promising poet Less trite, more feeling. How do I phrase something that can't be put to words? How each time I stare at you, if I allow myself to, I will cry tears of delight at how you've changed my life, how you've shown me what it is to really love a deep inconsolable, unchangeable love. How do I tell you without cheesy-cheese fluff stuffing, coming out at the seams BLECH- Nobody wants to read happy!! This is what my mind shouts I used to scorn at these types of writing hated using the word "love" Oh really? I'd think... This is all you have? This is the only way to describe how

I can feel it Creeping up Laying in the corner, avoidance all written across its face. I can feel it Almost happening Coming thisclose and then falling back again. I can feel it Peering in Against the window, face smushed there, fogging the glass like morning mist. I can feel it Know it will be Allow myself to begin to believe it's right around the corner. I can feel it But can't reach out to grasp The strings hang loosely beyond my reach... I can feel it... Someday soon. Until then I lie in wait, in hope, impatient.

It blows in the wind practically transparent standing up on end it can't be tamed won't be contained.... Your hair so golden in the sun as to almost be translucent the light catching it like fine threads of golden silk glowing radiating the light back at me They tell us it will grow better just cut it, it will... but to part with this piece of you which is so uniquely yours would be stealing a bit of your childhood your babyhood right out from under you. I refuse to be that one. I revel in your crazy hair, your stand on end, do what it wants hair your still-not-a-ponytail's worth of hair your rooster reminder hairdo... your lightest shade of brown duck fluff your tangle of snarls that stick to your head half rubbed off on the back where you sleep, front and bottom and sides so much longer your own style... You had it right from the beginning. I bury my face in it and promise, I whisper to you I'll let it be yours, that infantile oh so precious style, until I can't g

If I could fly I'd swing myself so high I'd flip Right over the bars, flip, right out into the sky just to watch the shocked eyes when I didn't crash to the ground. If I could fly I'd sprint forward, spring outward FLING myself out off the mountain, off the cliff, OUT into the open air, breathe in that most sacred of breeze the fresh the cool clean crispness of it all turn around, past the eagles, and fly right back to you, wind in my hair. If I could fly I'd hold you tight I'd take you out into the clouds OUT above the rainbows out beyond our eyesight where nothing can touch us Nobody can reach us Nothing could hurt us Being so high, flying away. I'd watch you laugh and cling to me Cling, like you do to my leg when I'm cooking but this would be better so free, you and me. If I could fly I'd float around when my legs got tired toes not touching the ground I'd take advantage of my new skill to replace that most fundamental of exercise. But most of