I am

I seem to be an open book,

but I’m a leather bound journal,

constantly kept under lock, and key.

Hiding myself from prying eyes that will never understand.

I constantly entice you to wonder what I hold within my binding.

The key however, is right out in the open, and I wish someone would take the time to notice and take advantage.



I seem to be the dripping faucet in your kitchen,

but my mind flows as wide and as deep as the ocean.

For me the sky is not the limit, but the horizon that sits just beyond my reach.

Always just beyond my reach.



I seem to be nothing more than a whisper among the trees,

however, I’m the powerfully loud thunder that crashes through the valley,

perhaps even your nightmares.



I seem to be a willow tree,

weeping only when the wind hits my appendages in a precise, sympathetic way,

and perhaps that’s truly what I am.



I seem to be the dying scream that comes from your lungs after a brief scare caused by an insect, a shadow, or a sudden lack of light,

but I am so much more than that.

I am the POP, BANG, FIZZLE, WHIRL, of the fireworks you watch at night.

My echo should be admired as much as their beautiful colors.



I seem to be the wind,

callously whipping your hair around your face.

Maybe one day I will cease to be an annoyance,

and become the flame that will engulf and destroy you all.



I don’t seem to fear a thing,

I look as though I could take on the world.

However, to be fooled by my diaphanous disguise is to misinterpret me entirely.

I fear being alone, forgotten, and the very worst, betrayed.



I wish for nothing more than to be the very bed you get warm in at night,

the pillows upon which you rest your weary head, and clear your clouded mind.

the fresh sheets enveloping you in a clean embrace.

However, I’m nothing more than the pull out couch in your living room,

hardly used, fading colors, taken for granted, sheets unwashed.



I wish to be the love seat in which lovers sit,

or perhaps a lover sitting upon that seat.

However, it shall be centuries until I’m made whole again,

joined by the one who makes the love seat worth sitting in.



I wish to be a castle among emerald grass and standing against a stark sapphire sky.

However, I am nothing more than the lonely apartment building on the “bad” side of town,

run down, covered in various styles of graffiti.



One thing I wish I wasn’t, but I can’t deny that I am?

A human; cold, jealous, ignorant.



I don’t know how others perceive me,

and I wish more than anything that I didn’t want to.

However, no matter how I present myself,

I am a human being, and will always continue to wonder.