My silence
It trembles
Of a thousand
Shouts
Quieted
In restraint

My wordless gaze
A novel
Of your pain
Written with
Fountain pen
Atop the skin

My existence
A prism
Of your
Incessant
Blur
Of the light

Brave girls are not always the perfect ones.
They don't need to fight dragons or win wars.
They do not always know when they are bested.

They are brave for riding on subway trains,
and for speaking when they don't know what they mean to say.
They are brave for feeling, hoping, praying.

Brave girls don't always need luck,
but they know a dash of it won't hurt.
They aren't unafraid; they are not sure of themselves.

They cry more often than most,
and they live in paperback fantasies they created
in their elementary school days.

Brave girls try new things often,
but still fear change when it comes for them.
The know it is the way of the world, but they resist.

They love unconditionally, and that is the bravest thing of all.
They don't always know where they'll end up,
but they cross their fingers and wait.

I found your apologies along with a lighter in my pocket
the night I burned you away
Both were deep down in there.
Below the forgiveness
It was squeezed between the pieces of your broken promises
Collaged into the parts of my shattered heart
I found them folded into love letters
And engraved into the anxiety marks your lies left in me
I dug them out of the hole your deceiving left in the back of my mind
Buried right next to suspicion
I found your explanations hid beneath the mental memories of teeth
They never quite fit together
I saw them in the picture show behind my eyes
I’ve recklessly recreated to many times
I felt your callused pleads for forgiveness on my fingertips
after I pricked my pointer on your spikey “I didn’t do its”
I slipped on your confessions
nearly drowned in what could’ve been
Luckily, I realized before it was too late, that water is infinitely too deep
As is the pools of sympathy I had for you but never had for me
I used that lighter to smoke a cigarette that was packed down as well as your stories
You always exhaled like a script for the movie I’ve seen to many times called
“Please feel bad for me”
I found your I’m sorrys on the bottom my shoe
after I kicked the crap out of my “welcome to walk on me” mat
I threw away and replaced with a banner reading “please don’t come back soon”
I can’t claim I don’t know but I can say this feeling is new
Never thought you had what it takes to make me give up on you

Beauty could not stay,
Hair— scattered in all direction,
  .  .  .  Wind pointing the way.

i pour myself another flask
tilt my head to the heavens and choke it down
as if to say 'that one's for you mom'
the gulps of jack honey that kiss my stomach
become a bitter reminder of the things that i relinquish in sobriety
they ask me about my coping skills and lately
i nit pick, mock, and overanalyze
see, i am much more bitter than the poison i swallow
yet it will never occur to anyone that i have a void in my heart the size of kansas
i take another swig, feel the whiskey warm my cheek, and
close my eyes to imagine my mother's hands cupping my face
as if to subtlety remind me that i'll be alright
but that never corresponds to the way that i've felt since that night
i stand in front of the mirror bearing a shocking resemblance of her
my eyes tilt down a little and my lips are thin, just as hers were

I spent too much time wishing I would be someone I'm not
I wish I had smaller thighs
I wish I had prettier eyes
I wish I had cuter toes
I wish I had a better nose
I wish I had fuller lips
I wish I had smaller hips
I wish my stomach was flatter
I wish all this didn't matter
All this wishing
And compliment fishing
Does nothing to change my soul
I'm just trying to fill a hole
A hole created by this warped definition of beauty
But I'm unique
I'm no longer weak
No longer wanting to change
Something
all because
Someone
Somewhere
told me they swear
Unique
would
Never
Fall under this 'category' of beauty
But I am here to prove them wrong
And show that I am strong
And show I belong
And she
And we
All belong
in this 'category'
of  Beauty
no longer warped
no longer having to be worked
on
to be given the title
Of a *Beauty Queen