Does my very existence not fit into your narrow idea of what a human being should be?

That you even hold a belief that my identity should have parameters truly disconcerts me.

First, I feel a reactionary urge to be sorry for not fitting into this tiny little cardboard box you've made for me.

This box you want to close up and push to the back of a dusty shelf.

This is because I'm used to being swept under the rug like a mess you don't want to see but you don't have the time for.

Then, I want to crush it beneath my feet and tear it apart.

But the mother within me caresses your hateful glare with a sorry stare.

Disappointed... worried, I gently pick it up.

With a sad smile, I begin to open it.

Carefully, with the calloused pads of my fingers, I untuck each fold you have created in order for this box to contain my soul.

With each motion, I make sure not to rip it at the seams. That would hurt.

It seems, though, this material has been handled unlovingly to begin with.

Mold has made its way into the corners, and the fibers are fraying at each corner, at every fold.

But I am patient. I will slowly but surely deconstruct each and every hateful box that has been stacked in the musty warehouse of your heart.

I will be here until all unsuspecting souls have escaped their prisons.

I will be here until I die.
But that's okay.

It gives me something to do with my hands.
Plus I enjoy the company of the liberated.

I need their help to clean this place up.

Some may think it strange, but

If you don't let them change,
If you don't give them space, and
If you don't give them room to grow...
then you are stunting them.

You have hurt the very soul
you wished to heal
with your love.

You are putting a flower in a metal cage.
You are keeping a butterfly in a glass jar.

"But they fell in love,
and their love was so great,
that nothing could tear them apart

and they lived happily
ever after,

right?

I could never let them go..."

You can fall in love with a memory.

You can fall in love with a pretty picture.
and you can hold that cold polaroid to your chest
and you can say "I like this best."

but you can't lay your head on its chest,
and you can't feel its heart beating

and you can't exchange a loving glance,
something so beautifully fleeting

and you can't feel its breath on your skin,
because it isn't breathing.

They are not a moment to be stolen.

So come back here to now,
The picture is ever-changing.
pay attention —

Open that metal cage.

Let that flower blossom
for the entire world to see.
Uncap that thick glass jar,
and set that butterfly free.

You may not be with the same person forever,
but realize that they aren't yours to claim...
and they'll never be the same,
ever

So let them have that fresh air to breathe,
and give them space to fly

Let them have all the room to grow,
and you won't have to say good-bye.

Disconnect
It happened to me
but it's not a part of me
Trigger

I can feel it now
Push it down
down down
down
Guilt

Shut up
You're fine
It wasn't that bad
It doesn't matter anymore
Besides, I loved them
I still love them
It's ****** up
Shame

Shut up
Don't say it
They'll judge you
Others have had it worse anyway
Your story doesn't matter
Shut it away

Back in the closet

Where you grew up

this morning
I watched
I watched
the memories of my dreams
fade in real time
real time
almost like a fault line
building pressure where it's
cracked the surface
it's a circus
ready to spring up
buttercups
like us
at any moment
earthquake
blossom
paradigm shift
***** blues guitar riff
crescendo climbing and
diving off a tall cliff
splash!
can't miss
water glass shatter
sun kissed blue mist
rainbow shimmer
water drop
splatter
driptip
tap