Today I celebrate the fact I'm living, messily
With fragility and passion
Eyes-open optimism
Never more cherished or overwhelmed
Teary with adoration for the ones who recognise my
Yearning and learning
Sparkle and the tarnished silver
Ever growing and humbled
Veritably terrified by the future's uncertainties
Even still cultivating a
Nourished soul, I am here - loving

Today I celebrate the fact I'm alive
messily
with fragility and passion
mistrust and eyes-open optimism
living and cherished
so precious and overwhelmed
adoration for the ones who see me
recognise the sparkle and the tarnished silver
shying from spotlights and loudly staking claim to space, time, presence
I am here
Living

It's not the orange line between my neck and cheek
Or the wonky liner that never looks even
The accidental overdrawn lip
Or even the thankless task of taming eyebrow hairs with gel and pen
That makes me fret before nights out

Yes, gusset-less tights are frustrating
One shoe unfindable in the wardrobe forest floor drive me up the wall
And no two items of clothing match or sit right on my increasingly fraught frame

But mostly I detest
The thought
Other people's eyes
Judgement
Appraisal
Decisions and approval
(or lack thereof)

How can I begin to make presentable, or pleasing to the eye a face, a body, a soul that I find nothing pleasant in
Concealer can't work magic tricks
And glitter bares all
There's nowhere to hide

So maybe I'll stay home tonight

Bruised skies and dove-grey disposition,
clouds match my mood
as I lie in bed with a heart full and heavy

Loss sings, bitter and icing sweet
red velvet lines my heart
only shines the right way up
light catching in the fabric hooks
delicate and resolute

And I know all too well
how this story ends
with tears and betrayal
grown up expectations
on shoulders just shrugging off girlhood
no lessons to be learned
only cracks in my self-image to soothe
your actions broke my trust in myself
and that is the unforgivable

May my face of devastation
hope-abandoned eyes and ghostly pale complexion
at your faithless lies and compromise
of a girl - twenty-one - on the precipice of life and wonder
learning just how cold life is with those who squander her warmth and world-seeking joy
haunt you evermore

The one-two punch knocks the air from my chest
As I desperately want your comfort for the white hot heartache
And knowing I can't reach for you
The source of the pain I cannot ease alone
Clamping my jaw to hold back the howls of injustice, bitten tongue to avoid lashing out in anger - but it's not anger at all
It's furious hurt and mishandling
Your hand on another woman's knee
Innocuous but not
Meaningless and full of answers
Amplifying my isolation
The distance a canyon as we stand toe to toe
In a bar full of shiny happy people
And I am muddy brown sad
Crunching ice to unfreeze my jaw and remind my nerves to feel. Something. Anything.
As long as they ignore the despair.

What is a promise
But heartbreak packaged in sonnet-sweet deception
Lies interlaced with long fingers
Destruction delivered with storytelling eyes
Depths unknown and opaque intention destination unclear
Log-axe swung with old acquaintance hands knowingly
The cottage's fate one of ruin and disrepair

What is I love you
If not wet air and empty vibrations
Limp attempt to write over scars with thicker pen nib
Buried doubt seeds far past the lungs and into the belly
Hope the ground is too acidic to bear fruit
Smothering the flicker of heat that might set questions alight
Pacify - silence - deny

What is I'm sorry
Besides yesterday's breakfast regurgitated
Retiring tongue
Dousing retaliation
Cold water drowning
Lungs crushed under the magnitude of your infidelity
A pitiful pass at piety, grace in the face of your sins

What is heartbreak
But spitting anger and screeching injustice
The instinct to bolt pulsing muscles
Desperate feet pounding sharp weeds
Skin torn to free space in the body for anything else
No peace no solace
Nothing but pain

You give me word friends
touchpoints to give feelings tangible boundaries
walls for my grief to bounce off and imprint
on me in the reverberations
with visible faultlines and shapes.
Thank you for sharing your archaeological finds
as you comb through what's left behind
in crumpled receipts takeout containers
collections of unclean hair knotted and balled
cotton buds and empty crisp packets
fewer wine bottles no more ice cream tubs
orange peels stale bread milk cartons
-- translating bottomless sadness
in lyric and steady tempo
each syllable is a treasure.