I Carried With Me Poems

I carried with me poems,
poems which spewed out of everything.

I saw them in my reflection, in the lines of my face, the curves of my body, the pigment of my skin.

I saw poetry hiding between the short brown strands of my hair, lurking behind the hazel of my eyes.

I saw it in the stitching of my daily changing clothes, pressed between the folds of fabric, tight against my skin.

I carried with me poems,
poems which spewed out of everything.

I felt them in the air, when I breathed I pulled them in.

I felt them heavy on my shoulders, in the pit of my stomach, on my skin.

I felt them brush past me, running.

I felt them sleeping, dormant within.

I carried with me poems,
poems which spewed out of everything.

I heard them whisper to me while I was dreaming.

I heard them singing, heard them screaming.

I carried with me poems,
poems which spewed out of everything.

I could taste them in my coffee, burning and swirling.

I could taste their sweet sugar, their spicy sting.

I carried with me poems,
poems which spewed out of everything.

I smelled them in the air, aromatic like incense.

I carried with me poems,
poems that just won't leave.