i write all day like an adult,
i am learned and i use big words
and i know how to accurately craft
a metaphor about pain and harm.

but at the end of the day
i return to childlike phrases,
“it’s not fair,” and i feel more
of a release from that than
a composition notebook
filled from cover to cover
with a million different ways
of saying that i still,
despite everything,
am not happy.

that girl you see? with the big blue eyes?
she's in the middle of a war with herself.
she was known as the girl who went in her car everyday for lunch simply to write.
you see her?
she's the girl who holds a mask in front of her face
and if you were to look behind it
you would be shocked.
that girl, that girl loves .
she L O V E S.
and if she loves you
then ****, you have got to be something special.
that girl is the one with depression and anxiety.
who has dealt with things you wouldn't even imagine.
she's that girl with the love for life
despite the fact that life has tried to turn her dark and grey.
that girl shines
that girl shines colors you've never seen before.
that girl is the one who is messy and unorganized but it's okay with her.
she's the girl with an ordinary face, but an extraordinary heart.
she's that girl that will apologize for the mess after you rip her to shreds.
that girl has a strange love for bears and the outdoors.
and has dreamt of the mountains all of her life.
she's from the small town where she was being swallowed.
and trust?
trust is not something that girl can do easily.
she has walls so strong that you wouldn't believe.
with a never ending for stargazing
because it reminds her each night that there is beauty everywhere
even if it is hidden sometimes.

yeah. that girl.

She is sixty. She lives
the greatest love of her life.

She walks arm-in-arm with her dear one,  
her hair streams in the wind.
Her dear one says:
“You have hair like pearls.”

Her children say:  
“Old fool.”

The peel is steeped
in rich amber breath
coloured by nature
stolen at birth
Bitter sweet friend
the lemon, the rind
nothing to the end
nothing left behind.
But the orange,
the orange has tips
it has life it has history
it has the blessed pips.
Bitter sweet good health
leave nothing to chance
leave not on the shelf.