If an easy rain
would make the rocks slippery,
he would hold my hand.

Selfless spring
Would've ripened
His freedom...

Alas,

Lady Winter oppresses.

Have you ever held your hand still
Just above a river’s passing water
Liquid rushing by reaching for your skin
Jumping up; eager to commune with you
Beckoning you to dip a finger in

I heard my brittle bones breaking in your hands
As I collapsed
collapsed
I thought I was made of steel
Or rubber
something that bends.
But never
breaks
Your hands were not comforting they
seemed all too steady
and your voice
was too robotic
When asking me to
Breathe
How could you ask me such a thing?
At a time like that?
have you no heart?

I don't cry in-front of people
You could've had the decency to leave me broken
On the kitchen floor,
So I could carry on saying that
"I never really cry..."
as a testament to my strength

But you had to grab my bruised wrist's
and push denial away
"Shhh..its okay."
  I could've held on a little longer
Had I known
You weren't here to
stay

When you joke you sound so serious
And I never seem to get it until it’s too late

You like order and tradition
I listen to Christmas songs in July.

Our moods never seem to match
You seem to thinks that that’s just fine.

But I don’t understand.

I’m always worried, it seems,
That I’ll somehow let you down
And in doing so, I’ve succeeded.

I always do the best that I can
to look good for you
you complain, “it isn’t needed.”

You’re family only likes the ‘Normal’
Whatever that is
But I stick out like a sore thumb.

From my hair and it’s ever-changing colors,
To my jeans with their pictures and quotes,
...That are drawn on with sharpies...
and the paint stains that cover them from time to time!

Because of all of this, I worry.

Am I too weird?
Is my rainbow-like hair too odd?
Are my drawn on jeans ,
My crazy belly dancing skirts,
And pentagram necklaces,
Simply too strange?

What of my love of olives?
And how I ***** up my face when I think?
Do you not like how I spend hours on my computer,
Working on one picture (trying to make it just right)?

Or how, when I choose to color my art by hand,
I walk away with paint all over me (Even on my cheeks),
And an oddly proud grin plastered on my face?

I worry, and pace,
For days on end, at times,
Wondering if you really love me.

And when you finally see me,
The weird, colorful,  oddball that I am
You smile, and kiss me,
saying "i've missed you so much!"

And I know that I worried for nothing,
That you are different from your parents,
That our beliefs live together in harmony,
That you actually like the odd faces I make when I'm thinking
and the weird colors I dye my hair,
And that you really, truly love me—

Paint stains and all.