THE RED SUIT
I saw a bright red pant suit online and decided immediately that it was perfect and adorable and powerful and sexy all at once.
I decided immediately that I loved it.
I loved its sharp edges and the way it drew the eye.
I loved the way it couldn’t hide in between other garments.
It stated its case, and no one asked any questions.
This suit spoke truth unapologetically and knew immediately that all its trespasses were forgiven.
I loved the way it flunked out of blending in.
It filled up the space on the page effortlessly and stained my retinas with its brilliance.
Hating this suit would only increase its value.
The worst idea you’ve ever had would be worth 1 million bucks if it were wearing this suit.
This suit was IT.
And as I was falling in love, I found myself suddenly drawn to scroll.
Who was I to wear such a suit?
My closet, a sea of beige would surely reject this rebel immediately.
I saw some future moment where I put the suit on, admired myself, and then changed into something more quiet before entering the world.
This suit couldn’t sneak past a curious eye.
It couldn’t enter and exit without being seen.
This suit was the main event in every room it stepped into.
This suit was meant for a different type of person.
A person who stood out intentionally.
A person who felt comfortable being stared at and creating whispers in silence spaces.
A person who said no frequently and confidently.
A sacred rebel with no regrets standing firmly in their belief that they are, indeed, the most interesting person in every room they enter.
I lingered longer on the page against the directive of self preservation.
Screeching to a halt all that existed before… calling into question what is and what had always been, the self that I had never investigated deeply but drug along like an extra appendage that could not be shaken loose.
The scared, small, shrunken self dying in a prison of beige and aching for red suits and flashy jewels.
Who was I to wear the suit?
Who was I to want the suit?
Who was I to be fascinated and enamored by the suit?
Who was I at all?
All at once, I saw the truth, the answer.
This suit was perfect for me.
And I added to cart.
-Amber Denise
#poetry #redsuit #standout #authenticity #selflove #beyourself #ShineBright #over40 #poetrylovers #poetryofinstagram
What Do You Want?
You've already licked my back with flames
You have scorched my skin and mind
This torture is not even the worst you can do
Want Me to beg? The hot
slash of blood on your face is not my disgrace
You want me to bleed? Go ahead
I have bled and I'll bleed again, I'm not dead
You want this too? Say it
You'll see me in Hell
But I won't see you.
Photo by Robert Arnar on Unsplash
#poetry #spitfire #revenge #heatofthemoment #predator
Unkept
I am not confined
by my environment.
I am not confined
by who I am in this moment.
I am not confined by my past.
I am not confined by my future.
I am not confined by my habits,
finances, or relationships.
I am not confined
by any part of my experience.
At any moment, I can choose
something completely different
and go down a completely different path in a completely different direction
and change my destination forever.
And all it takes is a choice.
I am not confined by my ideas,
my emotions or my fears.
I am only confined by my imagination, and my imagination is boundless.
AMBER DENISE
#poetry #poet #poemsaboutlife #selfawareness #selflove #personalgrowth #perspective
When I saw your message
I imagined my words striking open eyes
and shining, reflected within
a Man that can revive hearts and lungs
Thank you, for your work
I don't imagine mine saves lives,
tho I strive to save minds
Thank you, for taking the time
to learn emergency medicine
and still further philosophy
It is an honor to be photographed
next to my hero, Thank you.
Your words strike the light in me
Photo courtesy of a fan
#philosophy #songsfromthemountaintop #poetry #gratitude #greatminds
FORGOTTEN DREAM
I am the enchantment, the terror and the fragility of all that never was and all that may yet come to pass
I am the swirling current of potential of dreams not born but aching to live
The hope and inspiration that lives for mere seconds before being torn apart by fear and “reality”
Seeking always immediate expression and dying instantaneously when it can’t be worshipped upon arrival
I am the fire in a soul too long quieted, too long smoldering with the potential to heat the world
Longing to do what fire does…
Devour all that contains it and leave its environment completely and utterly changed
I am the words, the notes, the images, cascading over and through and across and away
I am innovations and ideas drenched in genius sifting like sand through fingers unwilling to make fists that may hold them in palms that may mold them
Ideas standing dutifully at the edges of the mind in anticipation of an invitation to exist but only ever conjuring a passing glance
Left wanting and neglected.
I am the unseen art starved for ears and eyes and accolades.
The beauty and love and emotion meant for brush strokes, empty pages and haunting melodies frenzied to the point of climax for the chance to draw breath and be witnessed but only ever witnessing the rise and fall of its own hopes of someday being
I am your untouched dream and I grow weary awaiting your attention.
I am meant exist.
#poetry #poet #poemsaboutlife #selfawareness #selflove #personalgrowth #perspective