todays punch in the gut is:

so i like to write. probably about ten years ago (GEEZ!) i wrote a poem, called the colors of you. i was very proud of it. a friend of mine loved it, and said i should try and enter it into a contest or something. so i did, i entered it on poetry.com. i got a letter while i was at job corps stating that my poem had been selected as one of 33 poems to be featured on a recorded poetry anthology, "the sound of poetry". imagine how excited my teenage brain was!! ME! PUBLISHED! i quickly sent in my writer's proof and signed off on the release. i didn't have the money to actually buy the album. sure, something should have told me, "hey, shouldn't they send you a copy?" but, you know, whatever.
today i was going through the closet and i found that letter. the edges softened by years of excited reading. i never owned the CD, but i loved that letter. it let me know that i was finally doing something right. that maybe, just maybe, i was a good writer.
then came google.
i read the letter tonight and thought more about it. i grabbed the laptop and googled the name of the album, along with the publisher, international library of poetry. what i found tore at my heart.
all a scam. on one message board alone, over 60 people wrote claiming they were also part of the same album. so much for 33, right? just google it for yourself. i looked at what felt like a billion websites, by heart breaking a little more with each one. maybe i wasn't good enough. maybe i was just good enough to scam.
talk about toying with someone's emotions.
i mean, i told myself all through my teen years, "I will be published by the time i am 28". yeah, odd number. but as 28 quickly approaches and all i have to show are dozens of poems and three half finished novels, i always took comfort in knowing SOMETHING of mine was out there. some piece of my heart, my soul, was being enjoyed. somewhere.
maybe that's why i like making jewelry so much. so that people can enjoy a bit of my soul.
now i'm quite bummed out.
anyway,
here is the poem. maybe someone out there will like it.
(and before anyone mentions it: yes, this poem was written by a teenage me. i was seventeen at the time. there is a definite sexual undertone, i realize that. i wasn't exactly a typical kid.)


My life as of late has been a billion different shades
Not colors, just shades
Shades of white, black, and gray
But lately, maybe because of you
The colors are slowly coming in
The light blue of the blanket
We sleep under as the pale rays of sunlight come into the room
The odd pink-red of those shorts you always wear
The light, sandy brown of your hair
That never looks neat
The smooth, even tan of your skin
That my pale arms wrap around
In the early morning hours
And the beautiful, indescribable color of your eyes
The eyes that make me melt with a glance
all the colors I slowly unlock
As I am more and more with you
And I just wanted to thank you
For turning my million shades of gray
Into the colors of you.