It wasn’t that my dresses were too short,
Or my sentences too long.
It wasn’t that my hair was green,
And my mascara smudged,
It wasn’t that my laugh was too loud,
And my voice too quiet.
No,
It was that I didn’t apologize
For the things you didn’t like.

I wore my skirts with pride,
And fired my sentences at warp speed,
I died my hair green again, then blue,
I let my mascara ghost my eyes
And I laughed, laughed, laughed,
And sometimes - I just stayed quiet.

No,
What really bothered you
Weren’t the imperfections,
It was the confidence that let me love them,
It was the independence that let me embrace them,
It was the strength that let me be who I am.

You didn’t mind that my voice was quiet,
You minded that I didn’t stutter.

I’ve always loved the rain. Maybe because I found comfort in the way it clouded up my fears and worries and made the world seem so much smaller. I felt more at home amidst the misty downpour than I ever did in blinding sunlight. Rainy days seemed to match my mood so much better than most things and the sky has always has been something I can rely on. It’s everchanging qualities remind me that change is possible and often even necessary

My body is a home for trillions of cells
and if I think of them as sentient beings
I won’t hurt myself because
I will risk anything to protect others and
keep them safe.
If only I could do that
for my own sake

I was so busy
folding you up
into my
favorite animals
that you yourself
became a
paper swan,
swept away
by a subtle wind
leaving me with
these paper cuts
across my heart.

You keep laying yourself down
like a jacket over a puddle
because you don’t want to see
anyone with damp feet. Look
at all the footprints - you are
becoming more walkway than
person. Get up, get up, you
are developing more than just
damp feet - you are becoming
damp-souled and damp-hearted.
You are kind and loving and
you need to stand up now.

I hope one day,
Your human body,
Is not a jail cell,
Instead it's a sunny,
2 pm garden with daises,
thriving because of ,
self love.

Where does love come from?
And where does it go
When two people can’t feel
Anymore?
Does it settle somewhere?
In your heart,
In your head?
Does it completely leave you
For someone else
Just like she did?