all about you, then
all about me
all about rhythm and
riptides of motion
stirring, then boiling,
then cascading down
and seizures of the soul
like a ticking bomb in the pit of my stomach
feeling like I’ll explode any second
physically can’t find the words to
express the Passion that overwhelms
like everything I am has been
preparing itself for this moment
for this person
for this time
when finally, I can release all of this anguish
all of this joy and love and
every other emotion I’ve ever had inside
and give it to someone
wrapped neatly in a too-large refrigerator box
with recycled Christmas wrapping paper and a bow
deceiving like Pandora’s box
if you open it, you might be swept away
my Passion is like a hurricane
and pushes people
it’s beautiful, some say
what a beautiful soul to feel that way
but one by one they trickle down the drain
and one day I look around and no one’s there.
it’s a painful realization to come to
the conclusion that
the Passion that makes me who I am
is the very thing that so many people
cannot stand about me
all of these emotions are ingrown so deep
they’re an old oak that is much older than me
whose roots tangle in my legs and whose trunk makes its way up my spine
and whose branches sprout from my brain
that has overtaken every inch of my body
these feelings that are more sophisticated, more deep
than a 20-something mind
but which I am stuck with.
I find they’ve slowly become who I am
the more and more I learn about myself,
I learn to embrace Passion
that so unwelcomed barged through my door
now I welcome it with a cup of tea and a
conversation on philosophy.
Passion is a wise companion.
I tell myself that the reason people
condemn my dearest Passion is that
they just misunderstand.
maybe they’re jealous, because
they can’t have such a learned, wise old friend
maybe they’re just terrified
because they haven’t found who
I tell myself this.
my Passion brings me beautiful things
that I wouldn’t trade for any other personality
if getting rid of it meant more popularity,
I’d keep it around for sure.
it swells and grows my poetry
and it fuels my need for self-improvement
it gives me reasons to live, and to find
the meaning of life, and of me
it brings me joy,
and it brings me sorrow too.
but it teaches me that sorrow can be just as beautiful
if not more
than flippant joy or
or hypocritical apathy parading as peace
I’ve learned to love the feeling of
sobbing ‘til I can’t breathe
because all it means is a release of something
I had jailed somewhere deep in me
that’s finally squirming its way out so
I can have some peace.
my Passion also gets me into trouble.
like bursting into tears
when I see a cute baby
or when I accidentally set off my boss’s house alarm
or when I find it thrilling to say the most biting words
when I am so devotedly angry.
it leads me to a romance
that will scrape the insides out of me
my nose, my knees, my elbows,
and it keeps me hanging on
to a jagged cliffside while my hands bleed
it pressures me into kissing in the back of cars
and compromising my morality
and it breaks my back on the rare occasions
when I just want to feel nothing
it coerces me into buying gifts and bringing coffee and
pouring out a servant’s heart for
someone who will never really love me
because you lack my Passion.
all of this, Passion tells me,
is simply for the sake of love.
the Notebook taught me wrong.
Passion isn’t for the weak,
but the strong who know when
to control it.
I don’t control it often enough,
but I’m still on a road of self-discovery
where Passion is my companion
I’ll learn to draw the line eventually
but until then, I’ll ride the waves and
see where they take me
Passion is an unreliable friend sometimes,
letting me drink the sour milk in its fridge
driving off cliffs while I’m in the passenger seat
but at the end of the day, I will embrace it
because my darling Passion makes me
and if you can’t accept it,
if you can’t approve of
well, I don’t care.
I don’t think you’re hateful, I
just think you’re afraid
because depth and feeling and
dear, dear Passion
just like the monster under your bed
and the bats in your attic
it scares you.