and so i write and paint.

i don't have an internship. i don't know what i am going to do with my future. i'm scared as hell. so i write poetry and paint and i spend time with a boy who makes my heart light.

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"life mingling"

would you grip a falling leaf

in fear of a seasons change

as it slips through your fingers

demanding you to move forward

with the risks,

and the pain of changing,

tied closely with loving?

white knuckled holding on

to the blossoms as they burst

through the cracks between your fingers,

neither obstinance,

nor fear,

holding them back

as you shake your fist,

full of promises of new life,

back at the tree from which they came.

you know neither the shade,

nor the fruit,

as you miss the possibilities

in favor of the facts.

but what if,

for a moment,

a blossom was a promise,

and what if,

for a moment,

a fallen leaf was a life

of unexpected and unplanned living?

there can be no anger,

you, yourself were unexpected,

unplanned,

not part of the 5-year course on life-map making

but things change,

and lives grow,

to fit the changing season,

being able to do nothing more

than breath

and hold on tight

to the life mingling with yours.