Sat, 06/30/2018 - 16:08 -- jxxh

I once met a man who introduced me to the different sides of love. 

He dyed his hair a different color every other week

and bound his chest so that no one would question his authority.


He took me to a bar one night, book in hand

and told me that I would finally get to hear about his past.

But, with nervousness coursing through his veins he stepped back and walked outside.


We wandered to a sit-down restaurant with an open bar.

It was the first night I saw him intoxicated.

It was the first night I drove him back to our small college dorm. 


We parked in the dreadful lot after searching for an open spot. 

We walked into the lounge and he sat down at a small table, away from the other people infesting the area.

He turned to a page, looked up at me with those sparkling eyes and began to read.


See he had two books published, and the first one of his second book was titled 'Rebel."

How accomplished must one be to get two poetry books published by twenty-one?

His lips curled as he read, and his soft demeanor turned to stone with each passing word.


It was at that moment that I knew what love was. 

It was at that moment that I discovered everyone has pain.

and it was at that moment that I thought I found a new voice. 


It was poetry that brought me back from all the dark times I've experienced. 

It held me when no one else was around, or when no one else wanted to. 

Poetry gave me a sense of relief in the world.


I may not be the best at it. Hell, I may even be awful at writing poetry,

but what it does for me isn't just therapeutic. 

It's another way for me to express freedom from my own demons.


Poetry is a way to celebrate what makes me happy,

what I find beautiful,

and even myself. 


Poetry is a way to conquer my anxiety,

silence my depression, 

and wield a sword towards my foes. 


It's one of the little things that has kept me here on earth, and not somewhere in the ground. 


I thank the man who introduced me to poetry heavily. 

I do not see him anymore. 

We are no longer friends. 

But in my heart, he still lies, 

and forever touched will be my soul. 


This poem is about: 
My community


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