I'm a Work in Progress but I'm Getting There

I spent a long, long time choking on

Bridges I should have crossed.

And reading poetry that made me want to

Write something beautiful for myself.

But I never really understood what made something

Beautiful.

Or what made something

Kind.

And I never understood what it was like to have

Laughter lines.

Or why they weren’t treated like

Scars.

And I didn’t understand how reading poetry could make you

Feel.

It was something I could never

Touch

But I could feel every

Cut

And every

Kiss

On my oh-so-graffitied skin.

And I guess

I never really understood a lot of things.

Like

What does it mean to have soft eyes?

I always read about them in poems,

But I could never imagine what they were like.

What makes them so

Soft?

Do you touch them to

Tell?

Or are they like

Poetry?

Alex Pearson