"just this once, just for now,
you can be anything in the world"


and we hide behind our costumes
kings and queens
monsters and demons
we hide ourselves from the reality of ourselves
where the words don't mean a thing
and appearances mean even less

you can be anything, anything in the world
anything you want to hide
and everything you want to show
you can fake it, honey
and make believe

put that costume on
and make believe the world is at peace
put that costume on
and forget about the sorrow
make believe it's gonna be okay
when it all gets worse

I've come to the conclusion that

the scar on your left knuckle

and the string of bruises you wear on your wrist like a bracelet

is connected to the crush of your father's fist

against your mothers chin when he's drunk.



The map of  your neighborhood

was already circled in red for all the places

you could possibly go to avoid

slurred phone calls in the middle of work

full of stuttering apologies.



You overheard your mother talking with your brother once

when you were eight. How do I get out? she asked.

I don’t know, he replied. How does anyone?

But there are over seventy shades of blue in the world,

and not a single one of them matches the sound of your fathers voice

when he murmurs I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.