This is for you:

-the girl who is so ashamed because of her acne,
-the girl who cries in front of her mirror because she doesn’t
look like Picasso’s muse,
-the girl who forgot how to smile because of her problems,
-the girl who cries her eyes out every night because of him,
-the girl who is so terrified to attach because of her past relationship,
-the girl who is different from the others,
-the girl who wants to save every soul she meets, except hers,
-the girl whose heart, blood and soul runs wild,

-you are so much more than the sprinkles from your skin.
-you're not Picasso’s muse, but you definitely are God’s muse.
-don’t waste your life being so stressed, just enjoy the journey.
-you need to be strong.Cry your heart out, but stop,your tears are too worthy , make them rare, for the real ones.
-try to love yourself first, then someone else.
-your future is not defined by your past.
-you need to save yourself first.
-run with them, darling, and never look back.

This is for you, girls.
You, no matter what, are good enough.
You are lovable.
You are strong.
You are independent.
You are different.
You are rare.
You are you, and that is your power, learn how to use it.

The first time I ever looked into your eyes, and I mean really looked, I saw a future. I fell into a pool of baby blues, singing sweet tunes of tomorrow, while I drank up the seemingly eternal summer reflected in your eyes. They spoke of promises of forever, lives intertwined underneath the sun, our happily ever after.

When you looked into my eyes, and I mean really looked, you got lost in your version of forever. Swirls of dark chocolate enticing you to come closer, taste, see, feel a world you had never before ventured. You told me you loved them, and I yours. While I sank deeper into your blues, you fell for my dark browns. Mine spoke of promises of eternity: growing old together, cozy and safe in our happily ever after.

Tell me, did you see a future, too? I saw my summer, and you saw your fall. Maybe, just maybe, for a second in our versions of forever, we found our missing pieces.

Summer went away as fast as he came. Fall was fleeting in her beauty and existence. Winter settled soon after: long and harsh in its nature. Summer lost his glimmer. Fall lost her spark. Winter came to drown them both in heavy, unrelenting blankets of ice. Where did our forever go? Did it only last till the seasons changed? Perhaps we were both wrong.

The blues that once shone turned to ice. The dark chocolate that once told stories of warmth turned to dust. Tell me now, how was it possible that whenever I wept, I shed tears of blue? It never made sense to me how fall could rain in blue.

It’s funny how years later, the very last time I looked into your eyes, and I mean really looked – my favorite color, my favorite place to get lost, once upon a time my forever summer – all I could see were fragments of our past, broken forever.

i wrote you
a letter every day
letters to tell you
just how i feel

written in neat, curved
writing i told you
just how sweet
i thought you were
how you made my heart
glow

letters in which i wrote
with various colors of ink
pouring out my whole being
to you

i wrote you
a letter every day.

i wrote you letters in which
i told you how you made me
bloom.

eventually
i found myself
pressing harder on
the paper
than i had before.

creating tears in them
similar in shape
and size
as the ones
inside of me.

i began to send
letters
with creases
and bumps
and stains
splattered with tears

pouring
from my eyes

as i wrote
the anger
bubbling within me.

my last letter
addressed to you
contained
no words

but was blank.
because
i had none that

could reach
as far

and deep

into the cracks
of my
heart

to describe
just
what you

had left
of me.

"aren't you cold?"

the small shiver
and the line of goosebumps
gave me away

I was freezing
but I welcomed it kindly
with frozen fingers

it felt fresh
like the beginning of a memory
long forgotten

my smile emerged
and I gazed out at the gray sky
"yes, so cold"

It’s just easy for them
Isn’t it?
This couple on the train.
They walked on laughing together
Holding hands
And I felt that familiar something-
Not jealousy
Not envy
But...
Chagrin.
Astonishment.
Incredulity.
Incomprehension.
Looking at them feels like looking at one of those
Impossible pictures
Where the stairs keep going forever in a loop.
It’s just
Easy for them.

It doesn’t hurt anymore, that thought,
But thinking it feels so odd in my mind
When I can’t imagine loving someone without
Shame,
Without pain.
They fit.
These people,
They fit without having to carve anything out.
They fit without punishing each other.
They fit like puzzle pieces cut from the same board-
No worries, they just go together, and that
Is that.
They fit like
“Of course.”
Like breathing.
Neatly.
Simply.
Carelessly.

I can’t imagine what it’s like
I can’t comprehend it-
To fit
Somewhere
Much less to fit somewhere
With someone.
I am always trying to corset myself into this world,
Lungs burning,
Trying to remain small enough to squeeze by
Catching myself by the wrist to keep from reaching
For anything.
And if there seems to be a spot where I might be able to exist as I am

It is always

Occupied.

Like a shiny pinprick
That thought hurts-
Not like the others it is newly cut
And still ******.
The idea that maybe there is a home for me
And that maybe I was too late for it.

They’re laughing.
He says something clever,
Passes a hand along the small of her back
And she leans into it,
Smiling because she loves that he wants to touch her innocently.
They seem to exist behind glass.
Not for the first time I wonder
If I could just slip into that life
Like a drop into an ocean
I want it badly
I want it stupidly
And I examine all the parts of myself,
All the edges and cracks,
All the things I’ve worked so hard to protect and repair.
It is not a welcome sight-
I am not a home
I am like an old ruin
Full of murmurings and cold spots
Full of dusty sunlight.
I sigh,
Knowing the secret I keep so poorly-
That if I really had a choice to be otherwise
I would have already made it.

I couldn’t reach them if I ran for a thousand years,
They are too far away.
They walk off the train, arms linked
Talking about nothing
And I watch them go
Like a hallucination,
Like a mirage in the desert.

Her perfume smells like forgetfulness
And it lingers.

If a man screams at the top of his lungs
He is making is opinion known

If a woman screams at the top of her lungs
She is hysterical

For a woman will never be able to have her opinion known
Because if she screams
She is crazy

But if a man screams
It is normal and that he has the right to be heard

While a woman must be silenced and should not be loud

Sit like a lady and keep your mouth quiet.
Even if you underwent a traumatic event,
No one will believe you so just don't scream

You are a hysterical woman
He is a kind soul who would never touch a woman if she didn't want it.

All this evidence adds up in our minds but in theirs, she is HYSTERICAL.