This is my messy art,
my heart on a page
displayed for strangers
who don’t even know my name.
I don’t know who I thought I’d be by now.
Is this it?
Am I it?
My awakenings and discoveries
both thrill and embarrass me.
I’m not sure I’m allowed to be this person…
Am I allowed to explore this untamed expression?
I’ll never be younger than I am right now
and I want to embrace
the little bit of youth left in me.
I’ve never created with every colour before.
Dreaming of passionately kissing a friend
Enjoying the gentle touch from my partner
Reading a poem
Songs on repeat
Drinks in the city
Dirty dancing in the hallway
Unable to sleep
Writing some words with my finger tips
This is my art
I don’t think I’m doing it right
it’s not precise
and it’s certainly not refined.
I don’t think others will appreciate what I’m doing.
Am I who I should be
with my messy colours?
I must already be the women I should be
otherwise, I’d be someone else.
I’m a messy artist
and there’s nothing wrong with that,
some people actually love art like this.
Picture from Pinterest