Poetry: Poetry

Why do so many people feel so disjoint
When the words don’t rhyme?
The lines end
At an odd place as the thought finishes

Can they not see the beauty?
A line can wrap with its partners
A surgical cut
But I prefer the slash.

Is it more real? No
But it’s still true
It’s still here

Grasp the depths of a line
Jagged and long
Deep and messy
Like me.

My thoughts aren’t counting
My life doesn’t run on beat
The words come as they do

This is still poetry.

Poetry: Just Sitting

I'm just sitting here
Chewing some food I can't taste
Is it even food if it provides no pleasure?
What is the nutritional benefit of thoughtlessness?
I'm not thinking these things
I'm not thinking at all
Just staring at my unused butter knife
Stuck on the gleam of its surface
Like a crow after something glossy
Would I appreciate life more as a bird?
It is probably inevitable that I would come to moments like this
Ignoring the past and focusing on the absence
It drives my presence.

How I See

I don’t understand why people question my desire to wed the man I love. It’s not that I can’t take criticism– the lack of understanding my situation confounds me. I see every person I’ve ever met in terms of how they relate to my family. You have my brother’s wit but my cousin’s sense of fashion, you remind me of my great aunt… everyone except him. For he is the half of my family that was missing. His mother is the motherly figure portion that I was lacking with just my own. His father and grandparents and cousins I accept as my own. And his siblings complement my own. His person is my complement. I have found someone I cannot compare to my family for he is meant to be family. Of course it goes deeper than that. Of course I have over a million reasons why I love, need, and depend on him.

But when my side of my family is autistic like me, how do they not see how I see?