And she was there in that old school.
Like air.
Soft and sour.
(To her) Puberty made her face fat
(To us) it made her turn to skin and bone.
(To everyone) Who cares?

And even though she could not see it
She was darkness among light
And yes she was rude and moody
but she was also trusting and a true beauty
She was young when she was loved by the wrong person.
Looking for justice in a cold world

And she was a constant source of demonization
For her stringy hair, her ***** clothes
And her weight.
And her mistakes. As if they were any better
She tried to be brave.
But bravery only comes to those who have a reason to be.

And one night when fireflies danced
And the moon kissed her pimpled cheeks
She tried to fly - leaving us behind
She wrapped her fists around death and kissed the mouth of dignity
Because in that moment before she crashed
She saw the rare and infinite

And…
She wrapped her fists around a flower and kissed the face of God

The tales we weave
seem to only breathe.
They become the
moments of bittersweet
bliss and change.

They are meant to hide
our lies and
our deceits
And they work.
On anyone we seek to
delude.

Until the moment when
the teeth gnash,
the hands clench,
and our tales give way
**to consequence