Pumpkin Pickin'

There are many joys to be felt on a rainy day such as today when the air smells sweet and soft and the humans within it cozy and happy.
But none of those joys can compete with the effortless joy of pumpkin picking with the people you love.
Not even one.
-k.p.
October 24, 2016

Don't You

Don't you want to know why I loved you? Don't you find yourself curious at all as to why on earth me, as a human, as a beating heart, would latch my soul to yours when there are so many others I could linger on?
Don't you at least care at all? Even if it's only curiosity?
Don't you want to know everything?
Don't you want me?
Don't you love me? Even a little?
-k.p.

10/18/16
2:45pm
Tuesday

Rach

I called my sister today
hoping to hear her voice.
All I heard was a stranger that didn't feel a thing like her.
I was lost in looking for her, desperately needing her by my side
but she isn't. 
She is far away
and sometimes I feel her close, I feel as though I hear her from the other side of my phone calls to her.
Sometimes I don't feel so alone.
Sometimes. 
Then my heart sings for her,
aches like an unbelievable aching
and it's moments like those that I start
to wonder
when did the rain become a storm
and when did having her gone
turn from missing her achingly
to needing her
desperately?

10/07/16
11:52pm
Friday night

This is a problem

"This is a problem." He said to me as if it were all very obvious and I was simply missing a heavy truth purposefully.
He sighed and then held my hand as he said, "Yes. Your problem is you have a singer's heart inside a drummer's body. You want what isn't meant for you and you're unhappy about it. But that won't do at all."
He stepped closer and said ever so quietly, "The only way to fix yourself is to learn to love what you really are even if it is different from the rest. You must know that you're still worth something valuable even if there isn't anyone else on earth like you."
Then he left me standing there without a clue as to what any of what he just dropped inside me meant. Not one clue.
And yet, something inside me knew and that made me laugh thinking about how stupid this heart of mine can be. It made laugh and cry at how far a person can go to find themself. I don't remember why he told me what he did, but I remember how it made me feel and that has made all the difference today. All in the world.

"On the Run"

I feel as though we've broken up and this is the beginning of the worst part of it all. This is the part where I come out from your place, barefoot, tear stained, all my useless pocessions cupped in my arms disastrously and then I'm leaving you just as your coming after me to yell somemore. I throw all my worthless stuff in the car and allow my eyes to flicker up to your apartment just to remember one last time (in case I forget) where I've left the most valuable piece of me.
I shove the door closed, adjust the mirror to better sights and don't look back.
Almost.

-k.p.
"On the Run" 2016
10:06am, Wednesday, October 5th

Whoever

Whoever said that art does not make sense has never made art for themself.
Art does make sense.
It makes sense of the riddle.
The anguish.
The pain and
yellow stained light inside the heart.
The long roads wet with waiting endlessly and wanting.
The ink spilled on the night of our souls.
Art spoils the reality we see blindly
and makes what is essential, truthfully what cannot be seen,
visible. 
Art does make sense.
It creates the only sense my soul can connect to, the only sense it knows
like an old friend I sit and sip warm tea with. 
Art disturbs me because
it is the only thing that seems to distort, to pull and tug at every possibility and plane without ceasing.
But really, art reveals every last thing about yourself, all the beauty
and the quiet music humming within you constantly.
Even the ugly bits it pulls from you.
Art, true art, reveals it all. It has the divine right to make sense within us--divine, godly, powerful sense
inside us all.
That is what real art does. It beckons us home within ourselves, sometimes,
only with the truly
special art,
without us even knowing it.
-k.p.b.
Oct. 3. 2016. 8.49pm.