An Honest Poem

I was born on a chilly October night, 26 years ago.
I’m 5’6, with brown eyes, and black hair and my weight is none of your business.
I’m not a dog person, and I’m allergic to cats.
I’m kind of like a baby jumping spider, cute but creepy.
I’m a good writer, listener, and I can carry somewhat of a tune.
But the thing I’m most talented at is avoiding my problems.
I’m an absolute pro at it.
If there’s a problem, I run in the complete opposite direction.
I run to my books and hide from the world.

In books, things happen for a reason.
The plot is set, the character’s path predestined.
Real life isn’t like that.
I could have never predicted the path that my life has taken.
I barely recognize myself these days.
I’ve abandoned everything that used to define me.
So if I’m no longer the student,
the youth leader,
or the devoted churchgoer.
Then who am I?
That is the million dollar question.
Sometimes I feel like I’m 10 different people from one day to the next.
Which one is the real me?
Or are they all me?

I’m prone to melancholy.
Have been for as long as I can remember.
I’ve daydreamed about wandering into a field during a thunderstorm and being dissipated by a lightning bolt.
Like the end of the movie “Powder”.
My therapist calls this a suicidal fantasy.
I call it what happens when I’m alone too long in my thoughts.

I feel broken.
But I’m a Christian and we’re not supposed to say that.
Isn’t that why God sent his son?
So that I can be whole?
Well me and God aren’t really speaking as much as we used to.
I try not to dwell too long on the state of my faith.
If I do, a pain so deep radiates through me that I can barely breath.
I’ll just sum it up in one word, unraveled.

I attempting to date.
Me, the perpetually single girl.
I was always waiting to be better, more prepared, more successful, more perfect.
I always wondered if anyone could ever truly understand and love me, with all of my chaos.
So far it’s been a huge bust.
I was catfished, but isn’t that a millennial rite of passage?

My name is Tawni.
I love indie rock, Mexican food, and spending time with friends.
Even though I don’t know if I really have anything in common with any of them.
My hobbies include:
fighting my inner demons,
pretending that I’m fine,
and overthinking everything.
Nice to meet you.


A week ago I stumbled across Rudy Francisco’s spoken word piece “My Honest Poem” on Facebook and it moved me. You can watch it here and read it here. I thought to myself, I should do one too! It was definitely harder than I thought it was going to be but at the same time oddly cleansing.

 

Photo by Anders Jildén on Unsplash

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Poetry 101: Beloved

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All those things I wrote, I wrote for you. Because for a reason I may never fully understand, I adore you. And because I could see that you didn’t really think you were worthy of someone truly loving you and you are.
I just wanted to be someone who didn’t need anything from you, but gave to you.
I wanted to be your best friend.
I wanted you to live for something more, something real.
I wanted to peer inside your soul.
And so in case I never get the chance to tell you, I want you to know that you are worthy, you are a gem and I love you.

Poetry 101: Freedom

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We call ourselves free human beings but are we really?

How can we be, when darkness is at every turn?

Gone are the days of going to a concert, the big game, the mall or simply out with with friends as strictly a social event. Now it’s rolling the dice with your life.

Gone are the days when you could be sure of your safety around those sworn to keep you safe. Now when you see those lights in your rear view there’s a chance it could be your last ride.

Gone are the days of leaders who really were for America, for freedom. Now we have bigots who hide behind patriotism.

Gone are the days where you could walk into school and get the education you needed. Now you have to worry about walking into a death trap.

Terrorists, extremists, murderers, bigots, and down right psychopaths everywhere we look.

Gone are the days…but did the good days ever exist? No I don’t think they did.

The world was already on a flaming path to hell, we’re just experiencing a rise in the heat.

 

Poetry 101: Seconds

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I don’t know how many times we passed each other, seeing each other but not really seeing each other. Or how many times we exchanged generic greetings. A meaningless “How are you?” or “Take Care.”  Then one day for some reason you smiled at me, a true genuine smile. And in that second I saw you, really saw you, as if I was seeing you for the first time.

Life hasn’t been the same since.

Poetry 101 Day 3: Sleep

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I spend my waking hours asleep, dreaming of something better. Something better than the stasis in which I live.

A place where I don’t fantasize about clawing at my own skin just to see a bit red blood in my colorless existence.

Where I don’t want to scream till I lose my voice just to hear a sound in this silent void.

From sun up till sun down I live in this abyss where nobody hears or sees me.

I’m only alive when I’m asleep.

 

Poetry 101: Reflection

Sometimes I love my reflection, other times I hate it.

Sometimes I wished that I loved it more, other times I wished I hate it more.

Most times I don’t even recognize my reflection.

Parts of my life require me to look a certain way, it’s drab and it’s beige.

The world expects to look a certain way, it’s  primped and it’s polished.

But somewhere between the world and life’s requirements is what I actually look like. My actual reflection.

It has no rules, no requirements.

It’s not primped and doesn’t have to be polished

It changes with my whims and obsessions.

It has no dress code.

 

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I Want To Know

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I want to know what makes you tick

What makes you angry, what makes you sad

I want to know what gives you joy

What do you live for and who would you die for

I want to know the things that no one knows

What keeps you up at night

I want to know those secret dreams

What drives you

I want to know who was the first person you ever loved

And who was the first person to break your heart

I want to peel away at the layers of you

I want to know, are we kindred souls?