Did you ever wake up and realize
that somehow, over night,
everything stopped making sense?
All of a sudden, your bed feels foreign to you.
Your pillow is cold against your cheek and
your blankets aren’t as comforting
as they used to be.
You drag yourself out
from beneath the covers
and the walk to the bathroom
Feels longer than you remember.
The tile on the floor is more solid and
the little rug in front of the sink
no longer caresses your toes.
When you look up,
when you make eye contact with yourself,
you notice that your eyes
are no longer the same shade of blue.
Your hair is longer and lighter,
your shoulders sag lower,
and the wrinkles at the corners
of your eyes are more defined.
You turn the **** on the sink
but the water takes longer to warm
than it did the night before.
Washing your face,
you hope that it’s all just an illusion.
You look up again and nothing’s changed.
Your heart starts to race,
you hope that it’s just an off morning
but your mind tells you that you know better.
Slowly, you take the few steps
back to your room and
look at the person lying
in the space beside yours.
You close your eyes and
open them once more.
Nothing, you feel nothing.
The person lying in your bed
is suddenly a stranger,
and then you realize,
so is the person inside of you.

I am nature's child,
With hair the color
Of the dirt I was
Born from and
Eyes the color
Of emeralds.

I am nature's child,
With hair the color
Of the sand I was
Formed from and
Eyes the color of
The ocean I will
Drown in.

I am nature's child,
With hair the color
Of the coal I was
Carved from and
Eyes the color of
The sun on a hazy
Monday morning.

I am nature's child,
With hair the color
Of the flames I burst
Out of and eyes the
Color of the hole
I will fall into.

I am nature's child.

I have the soul
Of a bitter old woman
Spending her days on her
Front porch in a rocking chair
Cursing the sun for shining
Cursing the flowers for blooming
Cursing the children for being young
Cursing the lovers for being happy
Cursing the grass for growing
Cursing the cold cup of tea
In her cold, bony hand
Cursing herself for
Being so old
And bitter.

When we were young,
Grown-ups told us that
When boys throw rocks and
Stones and pull your hair and
Shove you into the dirt, it means
They like you.

But they didn't tell us that when
Boys like you, it means they're
Going to throw insults and
Pull your heartstrings
And shove your face
Into the mistakes
You've made.

It was 3:42 on a Saturday
When a boy picked a lilac
From a bush in his backyard
To give to a girl that he thought
Was as beautiful as the morning sun.

It was 4:05 on a Saturday
When a boy gave a girl
A lilac and said that it
Reminded him of her.

It was 4:06 on a Saturday
When a girl studied a flower
That a boy gave her until she
Tossed it aside and disagreed.
"No one could ever love me."

It was 3:31 on a Sunday
When a boy picked a lilac
From a bush in his backyard
To give to a girl that he thought
Was more stunning than a sunbeam.

It was 3:39 on a Sunday
When a girl studied a flower
That a boy gave her until she
Tossed it aside and cried.
"I'm not pretty."

It was 6:15 on a Monday morning
When a boy picked every lilac
From a bush in his backyard
To make a crown for a girl
That was more royal
Than a queen.

It was 8:02 on a Monday morning
When a girl woke from her slumber
To a knock from a boy on her doorstep
Who held a crown of lilacs in his hands.
"You are every petal of every flower
I've ever held between my fingers.
But I can't appreciate their beauty
Until you appreciate yours.
You're beautiful to me."

It was 8:14 on a Monday morning
When a girl finally believed
She was loved and she
Was pretty.

You touched my face
The way an artist
Touches a blank canvas,
As though I had all the
Potential in the world,
And it was in your hands.

My veins have turned to vines
And my bones have turned to branches
And my organs have turned to stone
And my brain has turned to ashes.