dedicated to x_A_Bookish_Brit_x.

***

it's easy to believe
that the prettiest poems
come from the
darkest of places.
all the soft, empty
mouths of sorrow,
of numbness and
awful screaming,
somehow create
words you can't hate.
the abyss of grey
is brimming with
vivid words, straining
to build something
from its nothing.
i understand:
even if all is terrible,
i find comfort in
putting what's within
into lovely wording.

and yet, all the dark
could not compare
to all the sunshine
and heat of being.
simply existing,
and feeling as though
all the world were
made of nothing but
words, of warmth.
agony creates words,
but joy creates beauty,
genuine beauty filled
with light and smiles.
for something so
simple as a voice
on the other end of
a phone, pulling me
from grey into
yellow, filling my mind,
and all the words
that i couldn't find
to arrive into my heart,
a part of me forever,
i would give my life.

this is not my most
beautiful poem,
so maybe the dark
wins in that regard.
but, never have i felt
so strongly that my
life was more light,
more leaf than
drying, damaged bark.