Chasing Memories Through the City Streets

I am chasing memories that will never be replayed again.

Soon they will drift from my mind.

And forever stay buried deep in my heart.

Like little reminder notes on the wall.

Some memories hurt.

They sting like alcohol on a bloody cut.

The pain sizzles and bubbles to the top of my wounds

I will never forget the mess of moments.

They are what make up my life.

Just like my dreams that soar through the realm contained against the corners and walls of my mind

They sit with me on the loneliest nights and cover me in a warm blanket coated in reassurance

They pat me on the back and whisper in my ear.

I lay in bed at night, it’s only 3am but I’m wrapped and bundled in a cocoon of my thoughts that are tangled and drag me out of my happy thoughts kicking and screaming like a five year old child too attached to her mom to be apart from her.

And I wake up the next morning with sparkling brand new eyes as if my greatest fears hadn’t had a victory over my mind the night before.

I wish my life could transform and take off through the city streets in a sporty, red Rolls Royce and run a red light.

All I long for is to be that rich traveler embarking on a quest to London,

I can picture it now, waltzing through the National Gallery, living abroad in Paris, taking pictures of famous fashion designers and spending my mornings in a quaint, hole in the wall coffee shop drinking my hourly coffee, that is as steamy as a boiling lava pit, and as noir as the midnight blanket full of glamorous gold, fixed luminous points in the sky

I’m chasing a dream that isn’t quite clear

I’m trying to find my footing but there is an absence of ground

Reaching with hands, with each crease built like a machine, full of eternal misery caged by hope with fingers grasping for life but all they find is air full of dashed dreams and the crumbled remains of desperation and madness.

On those days I feel defeated, ready to close my eyes tight and tap my spike clad combat boots together and beg to the world to be somewhere else,

I think to myself about the battle that isn’t quite here.

I can’t fathom what my future will hold

But what I know with great certainty, what I never doubt is the memories of my young life.

Those memories of my childhood playing in the sand, in palm-tree filled, salty ocean water-scented paradise, snorkeling at Hapuna Beach, and swimming with the dolphins are some of the happiest memories that I hold with me in my heart.

Those moments and visions of growing, laughing until my ribs are nearly cracked, dancing until my toes bled and I had blisters on my feet, are the tangled ball of yarn of my memories that sustain me years later as I journey down the path of my future

I can never relive the same memory twice, but I can clasp it tight within the warmth of my hands and place it in my heart and my mind, and never let it go.

And my memories will never let me go.

Center Stage

The sweaty odor of converse mixed with the musty scent of the second floor hallway leading to Center Stage overwhelms me.

My hair is pulled back in a tight ballerina bun that I know will loosen and eventually spill down my back as I begin to dance.

My sweats are feeling loose and baggy, and I am so glad that I didn’t eat that second cookie the day before.

The dancers are milling around me, eager to dance, impatient to express their inner desires of who they want to become.

The soft thump of the hip hop beat approaches my ears as I enter the studio doors.

Loud thrashing, booming rhythms play tennis with the walls as they bounce against the corners of the ceiling.

The soothing rhythm calls my name and guides my feet.

Step by step I am gliding across the wooden, lemony floor.

The pumping bass, the crashing waves of words escaping the lips of dancers is all I hear.

Their eager conversations are barely recognizable above the roar of the pounding beat, and the swift bodies swaying in unison.

Dancers with their passionate spirits captured in their toes, stomping, drumming, and colliding with the floor of Center Stage.

I Will Be You (my alter ego)

I am a slightly crooked smile

I’m chasing a dream that isn’t quite clear

Through forests of fresh dew and leave filled trees

While doves sing in the branches above

I feel the rain in duet with my pulse.

I am an open book with invisible ink.

She is a vision, she is fearless,

The lights in her eyes shine so bright, the stars sway under heaven’s wings

This place is so irretrievable, yet elusive,

The tops of the trees are caged in between night’s finger tips.

She perches on top of each forest tree and claims it for her own.

Nothing will make her flinch away from the world she wants to hold.

My fears consume me.

My worries are the pain that forces my palms to sweat, a shallow pond in summer.

My knuckles fade to a snowflake shade of white, trembling and shaking,

Nails clicking and clacking together nervously

I close my eyes and picture the stars dancing in the night sky

Dashing apart and dividing into millions of constellations,

I picture escaping into the woods to free my body of the fears.

My tongue is twisted and wound tight into the back of my mouth.

I don’t cry, but my body becomes tears.

Nothing scares her.

She is like a piece of the galaxy.

Dazzling and glittering like a handful of stars sparking in the midnight sky.

She runs free and breaks through any boundaries.

Every shooting star that passes through her is unable to leave a tear.

She loves to be around people and show them who she is

She looks like herself, talks like herself and is herself

I look like myself, talk like myself but I am not myself.

I want to always be with her, but she is unattainable, just out of my reach.

I am journeying there as fast as I can.

Step by step,

Path by path,

Fear may never depart from my aching soul.

But I will be free,

And I will go.

Memories (the way coffee takes me back to my old life)

No matter how much the cold morning hours hurt, I can count on one thing to get me through the day. Coffee. The walk from my basement room feels like hours long when it’s a Monday morning. The walls and floor are clouded in darkness with only a few rays of morning sun peeking in to add warmth, and the soft aroma of brewing coffee luring me up the stairs to the kitchen. Like a zombie I drift up the stairs with only one thing in mind, my morning coffee is just moments away. The longing for that warm coffee on my lips on cold Michigan mornings is what forces me out of bed each day.

I remember how clearly the aroma hit me the morning my life was transforming and taking off here in Michigan. My first morning being a senior at a brand new high school called pioneer, when I was used to uttering the Hawaiian word “Waiakea” over and over again when people used to inquire about where I attended school. It was the first morning where I didn’t have my mom bursting into my room to wake me up, coffee in hand telling me to get up so I’ll look pretty for my first day of school.

That sweet sweet scent of coffee opens up a gate way flooding with memories of my warm, sunshine filled mornings in Hilo. And now i walk up new stairs to a new kitchen in a new house about to head out the door to a new school in a new city. And that sinfully sweet smell of morning coffee tells me that sometimes change is good.

Stand Strong

I want to feel infinite and not be pushed around and beaten down

Show the world I’m strong

Dazzling and glittering like a

Handful of stars sparkling and divided in the midnight sky

The blanket swept down around me

Reminds me how small I am

I find myself wondering how those who surround me see me and what I mean to them.

I want to know my significance to the surrounding crowd even though

It doesn’t make me who I am.

I’ve got myself, I’m all I got

I won’t cry myself to sleep anymore

I’ll stay strong and fight the war, even if I lack the courage to trek on.

And when I stand strong, on stage reading a piece of my soul, shared with the world,

I am brave.

I stand tall and read my poem aloud, telling my anxiety that it won’t get the best of me.

I stand courageous.

Even if that means I am required to choke down my feelings.

When the tears are bleeding into droplets of my sea of sorrow because I lost my best friend to a jealous girlfriend, when I wake up only to find that yesterday was the last day I’ll ever have my dear friend who swam by my side for what felt like decades, when my first love takes me heart and crushes it between his monster claws,

Even when I’m dead center in a crowd,

And the pain is tearing me apart at the seams.

Even when I am the puppet, and you are the strings.

I stand strong.

I breathe in fresh air, new air.

I continue on with my life even when I lack the courage.

I stand strong, I have stood strong, I will stand strong. I stand strong.

Next Time Around

I am chasing memories round and round

Finding beautiful and painful things

I feel lightning sparks through my veins

The up days

The down days

With each breath I am transforming

I stand strong, I don’t cry, but my body is a tower of tears

I can feel the rain drops in duet with my pulse

Soon my memories will drift from my mind and forever stay buried deep in my heart

But I will never forget the mess of moments I call my life,

They sit with me on the loneliest nights and cover me in a warm blanket of reassurance

They tiptoe up my jagged spine, pat me on the back and whisper in my ear.

They keep me shining, and dancing as though I am saturated in light,

I am the heartbeat around me, I am the old smiles and the new, the roses and the red wine

I wish my life could recharge and take off through the city streets like a gleaming Rolls Royce with gleaming wheels that spin forever.

I am the new shoes on an old sidewalk, I am the new sparkling eyes.

I am constant motion

I am chasing memories through my city streets

I am trying to find my footing but there is an absence of ground

Reaching with hands, with each crease built like a machine, caged by hope with fingers grasping for life but all they find is air full of dashed dreams.

The up days

With moments and visions of growing, laughing until my ribs nearly cracked, dancing until my toes bleed and my bones ache

These times are the tangled ball of yarn of memories that sustain me years later.

The down days

When the tears gush into bottomless puddles

I lose my strength sometimes, when my anxiety grasps me in its large claws.

I think I was once a piece of the galaxy

Dazzling and glittering like a handful of stars sparkling and divided in the midnight sky

Coated with yellow light for every shooting star passed leaving a small tear.

I jolt with each memory returning to me in my mind, being clasped tight within the warmth of my hands and placed deep in my heart.

My memories will never let me go

I breathe them in and I am content.