• amsterdam 6w

    (Inspired By Yogsterpoetry)

    On Days I don't Feel Like a Poet

    And words abandon me on the roadside, I let my toddler metaphors sit back and relax. We would sit quietly on the gutter. We won't talk. We just watch things go by. At times they are stubborn and won't budge even if I bribe them with sweets that I secretly stash in my pockets before leaving the house, I just let them be.

    I know. I know. I'm not allowed to eat too much sugary stuff but I declared random cheat days when I can eat them without guilt. I guess mom knew about it but just like Johnny's papa, she pretends not to notice the missing chocolate bars from the fridge or the candy wrappers under my bed and in my pockets that I forgot to throw away when I get home. Oh, I've been taught to keep my trash and not throw them anywhere when I was 5.

    If you've been reading me, you'd notice that my vocabulary is as simple as me. Basic. Transparent. They laugh out loud when we share even the corniest jokes and watch me from a corner while I mourn for my dead toenails and falling hair. And on days I wake up on the wrong side of the bed and things aren't peachy because a naughty pimple found its way to the tip of my nose, they let me be as well.
    Yes, they blush too when the cute guy next door smiles back at me!

    There are days I dream of meeting sonnet and euphemism in a coffee shop just like in the movies. Then we'd chat about life over cups of Cappuccino and fresh croissants. Who knows they might introduce me to their cousins, Hyperbole and Alliteration?
    I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

    For now, I'm going to let my baby metaphors and similes take their nap, sing them lullabies I learned in Kindergarten, and try to scribble down my couch potato thoughts that are making me drowsy
    at 2:00 in the afternoon.

    10. 20. 20
    Another dose of afternoon nonsense.

    Read More

    Dear Diary