“Who Will You Be When You Have Nothing to Write About Anymore?”

before i was a poet, i was a writer.

i was an honors student, i was a punching bag, i was heartbroken.

before i was a poet, i was searching for lillies in my flesh, my fingernails caked in dried blood

before i was a poet i spent days pulling knots out of my stomach, abandoned there by nooses swallowed then untied, before i was a poet,

i was a flirt, i was a tease,

i was a harlot, a thief, a liar, a skank, before i was a poet i was in love.

before i was a poet i traveled the coast, i saw what the world had to offer, before i was a poet the world swallowed me whole, and i too became a noose, swallowed then untied nobody spent days pulling me out,

before i was a poet i saw the world, and it closed its eyes and took a deep breath, the world spoke to me it said “breathe with me”

before i was a poet, life was daffodils and oxygen was strawberry flavored,

before i was a poet i was a glowing, orange and yellow soul.

you see i have lived many different lives within my own, and that of a poet is by far one of my favorites.