I imagine a perfect Christmas waking up to the sunshine on your heavy eyelids.
I imagine a perfect Christmas racing to the tree, slipping and sliding in your warm fuzzy slippers, to see how many bundles surrounded the tree.
I imagine a perfect Christmas, a Christmas unlike mine.

Now, I’m not saying I had a terrible Christmas, but it was untraditional to say the least.

As a child, I felt so special.
I had one of those blessings from an event the exact opposite of that.
I had two Christmases, one with my mother and one with my father.
Christmas Eve was always my mother’s and Christmas Day was always my father’s.
When I was little, my mom would tell me that she called Santa every year to tell him to come to my grandmas house, where we did presents, a night early.
Imagine, as a child, thinking that you were so incredibly special that THE Santa Clause, came to your house an ENTIRE night early.
I actually felt like the queen.
My mother and I had Christmas on Christmas Eve at night, and let me tell you, seeing the presents under the tree and have to wait TWELVE HOURS to open them, that was a child’s hell.
Then when I awoke in the morning, I had to get up and leave to go to my father’s.
My father got every Christmas, which I never thought was fair, but what do kids know?
Right?

So yes I had two Christmases
So yes I got ‘more’ presents,
But now as I grow up
I miss the perfect Christmas
I imagine this perfect Christmas.
A Normal Christmas.

I miss my best friend
I miss giggling
I miss arts and crafts
I miss netflix watching
I miss my best friend

Letting go of your favorite balloon as a child was heartbreaking but you almost felt at peace knowing it was going up and going to reach the stars one day
Maybe I need to think that
Why does high school need to tear apart good friendships and create groups of plastics
Best Friend is a not a label i give out lightly
So how do i rip it from someone that i’ve superglued it on to and it’s sit for 4 years

I cannot make their decisions
I cannot choose their actions
All I can do is sit and pray
And it kills me
I see her change
I see she is not like before
I see that she doesn’t really care

I see that group rubbing off on her like sharp cheddar on a grader
Collecting all of think mold inside of her
She become so full of it she forgets to clean herself off.

She forgets her roots
Her tree is flourishing with fruits and leaves that the people around her validate her for
She forgets her roots that i loved
I cannot cut her down
I cannot turn her into a stump
The only thing I can do it sit along her trunk and wait to see
Wait to see if when all her fruits falls down she remembers
Wait to see if my balloon comes floating down
Wait to see if that superglue held on
Wait to see if my best friend comes back

She was determined and depressed
She was motivational and melancholy
She was happy and heart broken

All wrapped with a bright red bow on top.

She had the love of her life
She had the world's most fabulous mother
She had the most inspirational best friend ever, strong and fighting the odds.
She had this smile of light and a life to be lived.

Why did her brain have to tell her otherwise?

Beaten and abused
Used and broken time after time again
Everytime I rupture there is this pain of becoming new again
As soon as I feel I am worthy
As soon as I feel I am sharp
I become broken again
The two sides of me become worn and tattered
As people use me to correct the mistakes they have made.
They are the one who have made the mistake, yet I pay for it.
No matter the bite marks I get, or the hands that have explicitly touch me.
Nobody keeps me for long
I become thrown on the ground
Walked all over
Though one might pick me up, I always end up back on harsh, hard flooring.
Looking up to the heavens
I grow continually weary as more and more use me.
I can feel myself shrinking into this nothingness.
They sometimes try to even disguise me to make me new again
Added accessories to me to cover up my flaws.
But under it all I am fatigued and overworked.
But under it all I still show the burnt yellow and pink top
But under it all I am still myself
For I am just a pencil.

She looked at me and asked,
Tell me about the sun in the sky
Tell me how it feels to have the rays peek through your eyes and into your body.
Tell me how the sunlight warms your skin and kisses your hair.
I looked at her, confused and concerned.
Yet she gave me this look in her eyes, like a stubborn bull, and she would not let me back down. This women of this radiance. Who dress falls on her like it was made for her. Everyone of those flowers stitched for her, but the lines seamless. I feel like I would picture her running through a field barefooted, for no reason than because she can.
A women who I look at to be.
I blinked back, acknowledging her stare but needing time to think.

Not much of a talker, I press my lips together, breathe and let my introvert go.

Well - I begin
The sun is just a huge star right? I look to her for validation but her eyes trance me and more words spill out of me.
And you can ‘buy’ stars and name them after people right? More looking, and my head follows my eyes to the ground.
I always thought that whoever gets the sun named after them is a pretty lucky fellow.

I continue with no hesitation-
The sun is warm tea
Not too hot, such as fresh off the kettle
And not too cold, like when sitting on the balcony all morning.
It has the flawless recipe. The perfect amount of the spice, honey and sugar flowing through you. Down your throat like a peaceful waterfall, not rambunctious and over powering, but a steady flow of heavy water kissing the surface of the lake before it descends into it’s body.

I feel tears rolling down my cheek, and I don’t question why, because I begin to feel a warm daisy in my stomach, slowing blossoming, giving me a reason to continue on.

The sun is a child’s smile.
It’s not hurtful like wind
Or like adults.
The nature made the sun, and the sun made nature.
They move in rhythm, never focused on anything but themselves.
But no, not in a selfish way
More of an understanding way.
Toddlers leaping giggling at the only thing to be described as nothing at all.



I pause, knowing that it’s not all sunny everyday.

Breathe.
The sun is, not always there.
The sun is sometimes covered behind gray condensation, as if it’s playing peek-a-boo with a toddler.
I never understood how toddlers just thought something was gone when it was covered,
But with the sun it makes perfect sense.

Even on the cloudy days I must remember, the sun is a flower in the sky
A sign of peace
A sign of happiness
A sign of hope that may not always be visible, but you know it will come back one day, every day.

When does love stop and become not-love?

How does someone hold your frail hand, look into your eyes, to tell you they love you in sickness and in health, making the biggest promise of their life?
How do you know when that ‘one’ is ‘the one’?
When does flipping pancakes in love become cold coffee left on the counter from the one who slept on the couch that night?
When did a promise become a suggestion?
And that suggestion became a chore?
And the chore became more?
Once you were drowning in love, head over heels, now upside-down drowning in your tears over a promise,
a suggestion,
a chore,
How does one go through something so painful and the arms they once ran into and no longer open, but clenched with the blood stains from your aching heart.
The one that you told all your secrets too,
The one that loves you...
loved you…
How can anybody really stay in love?
When did that lust, turned to love, turned to loved.
You feel that your world is flipped,
but I promise you, you will see the horizon again.
You will smile as beautiful as you did on your wedding day
You will laugh as you did on your third glass of champagne on your honeymoon
You will feel as loved as you did in the beginning.
One day, you’ll be okay.
And it’s okay if it’s not today.
It’s okay to have little footsteps waddle up to you and ask, “Mommy, why are you crying?”
You are her superhero, but superheros are okay to cry.
Even superman flies low on some days, but you can do this.
Wipe the sorrow away, though the scars may stay the war is over and the peace has begun
Stand brave warrior, you have a whole army behind you, ready to catch you when you fall and push you up on your feet when you can’t do it yourself.
Because when you stand strong on the mountain of tears and fears, with your baby girl in your arms,
You will see the horizon again.

the pathophysiology of
you and i

something between
love me so ******* hard i
combust and
caress the sharpest edges of me
gently, softly

sometimes it’s only in the aftermath of lust
that we begin to dismantle people

now we’re in the graveyard of
all things good.

i am like a child
innocent in my adoration and
my cells respire for you
skin yearns
because i am foolish

you were a paroxysm
of breathing in light
fast

i found the atlantis
in your eyes
and then drowned in the
distillation of colour

your lungs were
coated in lies
that i breathed in
like air to survive

so dismantle the self
deconstruct the heart
find the morphology of love
for it was not shaped like
us