little flame-headed child
i should have held you more.
i should have scooped you up in your little patchwork-dress
and read to you when you asked.
i shouldn't have left you alone
outside
on purpose
i shouldn't have let you cry
over
and over
and over.
i shouldn't have made fun of you
for making friends with the air
for talking to them
when you were lonely
you were only
a child.
little flame-headed baby
i should have done so many things
as many things as i shouldn't have
i did wrong by you
so many times
and when i was given a second chance
our mother robbed me of it.
that's karma, i guess.

little flame-headed child
you forgive me,
but your patchwork heart doesn't
it's alright,
i deserve it

They only ask

    how you are ,
to hear that you are doing

fine , but are you really

     fine?

i'll give you a second chance
you say.
i say
don't,
i'll just sell it
for something better
mother taught me too well
to monopolize men's hearts
find another girl
who wants you
for your money

i'll meet you in the middle of my daydreams
where the current meets the tide,
where the bend meets the road...
i'll meet you in the middle where it all collides.
together we can wash away, wash away the sunrise.

i have not found it yet
the light that shines over my head
from a far i know i have seen it
but my heart and soul is still wounded

i want to get out of this misery
that satiates the darkness within me
but where do i get strength?
where do i begin?

i trust the powerful,
i know i have hope
but my wounded soul is still
heavy with the untold

It’s been considered—
maybe I wasn't meant
to be
what you'd call
“ladylike.”

Sure, the word—
it sounds pleasant enough—
the way it rolls off the tongue
with its pale pink sound
& its clean contours that
kiss the corners of the mouth
just so.

What girl
wouldn't want to be something
that pleasurable
to sound out?

No.

I don’t want to be something
so subtle.

I want to be the word
that's craggy and creased—
the word
that bites so hard
on its speaker's lip,
all other syllables
slip the mind
& they're left
with only mine.

I want to be the word
you remember
weeks later,
& silently repeat to yourself
when you’re alone with your thoughts—
the word
that feels so satisfying to say,
it's unable to be muted.

Yeah.

“Ladylike” won’t hold a candle
to that word
when I happen to find it.