You’re more paternal than my dad.
It’s kind of a scary thought.
Knowing how cruel a loved one can be-
Then coming to school and seeing the kindness of a supposed stranger.
It’s terrifying, really, that I would tell you so many things I would never tell my father.
You have pride in me, and that is an honor.
He might have a smidgeon in the bottom of his heart, but it lies dormant.
From the first time I sang he claimed I couldn’t.
You gave me opportunities that have changed my life.
It isn’t merely black and white, and this is odd in itself.
But you helped me and gave me the support I needed in a time of darkness.
That really means the world to me.
Blue, baby, I’m sorry I killed you.
I was young and stupid and didn’t value life.
Just out back, I was stomping on ant-hills, failing to comprehend the damage I caused.
You were different, I loved you so.
I had all but forgotten until the picture I saw of the most beautiful fish, Frusciante.
Such a pretty thing, as were you.
I danced for you without knowing it, in the melancholy waves of song.
And it’s beating, look it’s still beating, though your heart stopped long ago.
I’d make it up, but I cannot.
Humans are just awful.
My legs are like tree-trunks, and I like them that way.
My hair is obnoxious, but I’ll cope.
I like my eyes, deep blue like the sea, though they disappear when I laugh.
My hands are small and don’t fit into gloves, but they are soft when they are held with care.
My breasts are mutilated and disproportionately little, yet I like them nevertheless.
I am beautiful, of course, and I’m glad of my existence in this stout little body of mine.
I am who I am and I shall never change for anyone else in this world.
For, I am me and it is I who decides what I should look like and be.
I’m proud of myself for this epiphany of adoration and embrace of the self that I am.
Last night I dreamed I was at the mall
In a pawn shop, buying back our belongings
It was a pathetic sight, even I knew that, at the time.
To be so poor that I longed for old menial things.
A backpack, your shirt and a hat.
I think it was Grandaddy’s, at least that was justified.
I spent money I had saved so valiantly on things that should have stayed ours.
And the man said when I called him out,
"So sweet that you miss your mom so much, you would do something so droll."
This must mean something, but it really doesn’t matter.
Rebirth in the petals
Last night’s makeup, smeared from crying
I could never wash it off
A sign tattooed on my wrist
A spiritual thing
No voice lost
No bloodshot eyes
Merely an embrace of beauty and a newly vivacious spirit
This is a wondrous feeling
It should happen more often
It gives me the courage to pluck up and address my future
we all have that character that makes us want to climb on top of a roof in a public location and whip out a megaphone and clear our throats dramatically and announce “hello citizens today is a good day and I am here to tell you about a FANTASTIC fictional dork”.
I urge you to listen to these songs as you read, maybe.
Megan // My Autumn Empire
Like the kind of running you do,
in a grey day
Sky high up and hues of the wheat
Growing as the only bright colors
Hair slipping out if a hair tie
And the footwork making you forward
To both run and wait up for a friend.
Kala // Yann Tiersen
And the song switches-
A night cafe
Music making heat and flames
A dim roar,
Emanating your legs long after his
Have leaned and left-
In a Notebook // Goldmund
And now your kinds of tired,
Slipping new arms into a onesie,
And feeling warm breath
Beg life back into a heart
That always hoped
She could fathom a new moth as
Lovely as this one.
The most beautiful poem,
She thinks she’s ever written.
Anything you Synthesize // The American dollar
You’re wearing a sheet, ghost to me
You live in a sheet, home to me