Thursday, November 24, 2016
In the attic of
my hurt feelings, one day there
won't be space for you.
I was layering tissue paper flowers on my paper;
they were beautiful & I had to have more of them,
I had to murder them in glue to make them stay for me.
I was blinded by the pretty colors of my creation.
A few wasn't enough.
My first grade teacher came over to me & started plucking at
my artistic mulch & saying "No! No! Too much! Too much."
Later in the year, I drew with bright colored pencils
a mountain with five flowers;
I wasn't finished but I turned it in. This art that I felt was unfinished won an award.
The very same thing happened a couple years later
(this time for my incomplete pumpkins in colored pencil).
I had to seriously question
when to stop whenever I was creating something
& even still with music, the internet, drinks, relationships, holding on to hours of the night & their conversations...I don't know when to stop. I hold on just a little too much.
I feel it all at once. Unfinished art may prod at me
but I'd rather drown in what I find beautiful.
I'd rather be a mess than question my completeness.