A Blank Canvas

  What do you think of

when you see a blank canvas

does it fill you with anxiety

or inspiration?

I think back to a moment

sitting in a therapist’s office 

at eleven years old

She told me to paint your fears

so i painted them in reds and golds

red like the blood staining my sleeves

red like the fire filling a room

gold like the sun

shining light onto everything 

I was told

you can turn any mistake

into something pretty again

So i took the letters, P T S D 

and turned them into a sea

of acrylic paint and ink

on the sides of my hands

I have been creating art

and writing

ever since i knew how to pick up a crayon

i have been turning every ugly thing within myself

into something worthy of love again

And yet

i still find myself stuck in bed

losing motivation

trapped in this world my brain

has decided to label as

“Well, I mean, You were never pretty, to begin with.”

When you don’t know what to fill the canvas with

it can be tempting to just keep it empty

people often have to tell me

to speak up

repeat that word again

they often don’t understand 

a thing i said

because i’m so scared 

to have my voice

take up too much space 

in the room 

it’s easier to hide behind whispers

my paper and pen 

being the only place

i can safely scream

i often feel more connected to people when

i can just text them

because face-to-face

it takes me too long to think of the right words

to ever start a conversation

I’ve been learning how to projection

i just hope the people now hearing 

my voice

understands it

Once, a girl in a crowd 

told me

“you are the brightest light in the room”

Once, a cashier at a clothing store

told me

“you have the most beautiful eyes,

 you need to look up more though”

Once a girl I was texting 

told me,

“You are probably the most caring person I have ever talked to”

and i wonder to myself

how many layers have i had to build up

to hide the little girl

still burning to death in her first home

and is that healing

or simply burying your fears?

I tend to hide behind my art and words

Because i find it easier to say things like

My soul and body has been ripped open

and put on display

Daffodils and daisies now growing out of

the scars from where i 

carved myself out for you

as you left me like an open wound

to be infected by your words

But instead I have chosen

To know my worth

I find it so funny

and so beautiful

how poets can write about 

the saddest moments in their lives

and yet still make people smile

Like Shakespeare

Emily Dickinson

And Ocean Vuong

How do we find solace in these writers saddest declarations of heartbreak and loneliness 

But I think that’s why when someone asks me

“what are you going to do after highschool?”

i tell them something like-

“I just want to keep writing”

and i wish more people

understood why.

Because i’m still trying to find ways 

to explain the pain

without directly 

looking 

it

in the face

I don’t think 

we get to choose if

we fill the canvas

But i think we can choose

how we fill the canvas

I usually prefer to write poems about

falling in love

or falling out of it

because it's easier to talk about the things

that'll entertain the human ear

it's easier to write about the things

that haven't caused me as many tears

but instead i have chosen to write of 

the layers i killed myself in

to bleed love onto 

every page i write

and for every reason 

i will continue to fight 

and give others a reason to be

lieve 

they can one day paint stars around the scars

that they hide

from

the mental battles filling the canvases 

of our minds.