I don’t want to change
anyone anymore.
I’ve seen the effort it
takes for me to change.
I accept that people
are rarely kind.
I know people
rarely care.
At times they have
good reasons for that.
Bullies are made by this
most of the time.
I have the same
struggles as all of them.
I admit there have
been many times
I’ve tried not to relate.
I am so human
at times it scares me.
My expectations have
left the station but
I’ve not given up.
God is in more
control than we know.

I’m not smart.  
Im not a ****!
Yes full of heart.
Put it on a cart.
We won’t part.
Sugar our start.
Self esteem chart.
I don’t place in the mart!
Check out my obese HEART!
ableist society see my art.

When your  fear dies; expect to feel alive.
I am jumping with figure skates expecting not to survive.
In a rush hour of figure skaters to feel the insane drive.

There is another figure skater rushing behind my spiraling blade.
The graceful competition of a skater moving
among robots in a parade.
To figure skate on glitter was like receiving an accolade.

I am a powerful skater wishing to be myself in a scraping serenade.
In my world only rags are made.
Through the words of a choreographer a princess would be made.
Swaying like a leaf off a trembling blade.

Dreaming into a jump unable to wake up before its to late.
Its just a dream that reality set for  a different date.
I am leaving behind a rink set like a magnificent diamond of light.

Coughing,
grasping for walls
and promises I already broke.
Said I’d quit—
but tonight,
I wanted silence more than strength.

Panic hits,
then slips.
Your name dissolves
with every breath I steal from my lungs.
I wave off the world,
sink into smoke,
and call it peace.

One star streaks
across my high.
I don’t wish.
I just watch—
hoping morning forgets
like I finally did.

Within a book, she keeps each hurtful deed,  
A catalog of wrongs beneath each name.  
Her wounded heart, a garden choked by weeds,  
And every page ignites an inner flame.  

She reads their sins in ink that does not fade,  
A testament to pain she cannot shake.  
The trust she gave, betrayed and left unpaid,  
Becomes a chain of bitterness to take.  

She fears the world, where lies and shadows play,  
Believing none are true, that all deceive.  

Her heavy book has left her heart in gray,  
A life too bound by hurt to yet believe.  

If she could set the pages all afire,  
Might love, not anger, rise from such a pyre?

My hair was always dark—
A quiet oath to who I’d been.
It clung to me like truth,
Framing features I had learned to love.
Even as a girl, I wandered shades—
But the dark always called me home.
Strangers knew me by its wave,
Its certainty, its ease.
It was mine.
And it was enough.
Until you.

You liked bright.
You liked wild.
You liked her—
The red that lit your eyes.
So I told myself,
Maybe if I bled the dark away,
You’d see me with that same fire.

So I sat beneath the light and bowl,
Watched bleach strip years from my strands,
Watched red bleed into who I was,
Not because I loved it,
But because you might love me.

You said you liked it.
So I added more.
Layered hope on top of damage,
Waiting for your heart to catch.

And it did.
You liked me—or at least the version
I burned myself to become.
But now, in the quiet of my mirror,
I meet a stranger with copper strands,
Not the girl who knew her worth,
But one who traded it away
For something small
And fleeting.

I miss the girl who never asked
If she was enough.
I miss the dark.
I miss the strength.
I miss the truth
That once lived in my reflection.

And now I know—
Love that demands you change
Will never hold the parts
You buried to be chosen.

I should’ve never gone red.
Not for you.
Not for anyone.
Not at the cost of me.

I held my tongue when you walked away,
Told myself it hurt less not to say.
But silence only made it burn—
Some lessons, you don’t choose to learn.

I rarely cry, I play things cool,
But you broke through that guarded rule.
A bed, a hand, a whispered truth—
Then nothing. Like you’d just cut loose.

You gave me hope, then took it back,
Left me questioning what I lack.
I wasn’t some girl passing through—
I was a friend who cared for you.

No closure came, no words to mend,
Just quiet from someone I called a friend.
So here it is, my final line:
You hurt me—deep. But I’ll be fine.

I crave the hush of a world asleep,
Where shadows stretch and secrets keep.
To melt into the void so wide,
No ticking clocks, no tides to bide.

Beneath the moon’s cold silver eye,
I’d let the noisy moments die.
The breeze would kiss my weary skin,
And stir the stillness deep within.

A pen, a page, a heart laid bare—
Each thought a whisper in the air.
No roles to play, no masks to wear,
Just me, the night, the quiet stare.

Oh, to pause this spinning sphere,
To breathe in peace, to disappear.
Not forever—just a breath,
A stillness sweet enough to death.

How I crave that gentle cease—
A fleeting second carved from peace.

I could cry
My whole life
For you,
But you would not stand
At my funeral
When it only rains.

If I was the sky of stars above,
Would you see me?
Or would I be outshone by moon and sun,
too faded and far away,
or would you even then not lift your gaze from cold ground away