Written on 4/1/2019
Vulnerability… Or lack thereof.
I am deciding to allow myself to feel
In depth, the melody of my heart as it communicates joy, anger, anguish whatever it wants to stay, if I may, I will.
I’m letting myself listen keenly
Melancholy, solace, nostalgia, vengeance, bitterness, hope, fear, the wrath of a Nigga.
This n*gga that is my heart.
I’m letting it all out.
And no! I am not just feeling but letting it flow, course my veins so that I may find cause to let it all out
Through art, words, poetry like this.
No more wallowing in unexplained emotions No more shutting myself out from myself.
I do that already with folks but no more!
The thought of vulnerability makes me too vulnerable thus days on end I go without journalling.
No more acting like I’ve got it when I don’t.
No more being tough when I want to be soft
Vulnerability….oh my!
As I pen this, my walls are breaking down
For myself, to myself
I’m finding out who I am
For walls only keep my true identity hidden.
Vulnerability….or lack thereof
Vulnerability, vulnerability
What does this mean to me?
When ever so often I’ve known the “lack thereof”?
Vulnerability, I’m I choosing to be?
Letting my guard down scares me shitless but I say I’m breaking up with my fears, right?
So how do I go about this?
Poetry my comfort food, fill me up till I have no choice but to open up
Hold my hand oh my Art that makes me so vulnerable and maybe my heart will trust.
Let thee be Thu guide, Let I abide in your peace
Let I have no choice but to use words to make others at ease
So they may show me how to open up
for vulnerability is a foreign concept to me.
Monologues 