december 9th 1996
a rainy rainy day

but when i turned 22
everything was clam
everything was okay

tangled between the sheets
our bodies wrapped around each other
we smell like shampoo and feel like cotton pyjamas

when i turned 22 there was nothing but love surrounding me
a feeling of weightlessness
a feeling of joy

when i turned 22
we were sitting outside
with nothing but the city lights to clear our sights
and the stories kept coming
your childhood and ex lovers
your trips and adventures
while the music plays on in the background

when i turned 22 i had love on my side
and a hand holding mine

Red lipstick with vanilla smell
Red lipstick with vanilla taste
It’s not the only reason you crave my lips
But the feeling of safety we give each other
It’s not just vanilla but time stops and it’s only you
Everything is you,
Now vanilla lipstick reminds me of you
I keep you on my lips not to miss you
You love vanilla on me
You make me love vanilla

It takes a long time, for many
to find it okay to ask for help
For as long as we’re alive
It’s not too late to say
Mama I’m struggling
It’s not too late to say
I stay up way too late
And think way too much

It’s not too late
to stay my heart burns and my chest feels like it’s gonna explode
that I can’t breathe in a crowded room
that my hands shake when I talk in public

It’s not too late to say,
I think life is not for me
Because I think life is for everybody
You just have to be reminded
You just have to be reminded that you have a hand to hold when it shakes
And someone to sit with you
Remind you that you can breathe
And breathe with you
A familiar face in the crowd
To make you feel safe

Patience
2. Gratitude
3. Anger Management
4. Love
5. Faith
6. Anxiety Relief
7. Asking for help
8. Hard work
9. Perseverance
10. Forgiveness
11. Turning a blind eye
12. Trust
13. Sleeping with one eye open
14. Living guilt free
15. Fighting off the voices in my head
16. Self-worth
17. Grace
18. Respect
19. Honesty
20. My versions of Right
21. And Wrong

As Midas discovered what he thought was a blessing turned into a curse
As if all he’s turned to gold was now stone.

His lover’s touch cold
His lover’s eyes empty it became scary
His lover’s body like a statue that haunts him in the middle of the night

Midas learned the hard way that greed is a very ugly thing
Lost everything he could ever have
The possibility of something
Midas would starve

Midas would be no different really than Medusa
Midas Medusa
Medusa Midas

I may be the person who cries the most.
In sadness and in happiness
In funerals and weddings.

I may be sensitive but sometimes, cold as stone

I will feel deeply or be completely indifferent
Rarely in the middle
Little grey area
A complete opposition of the person I am

When people ask me,
how long I’ve been writing
I tell them the same story

I was 6 years old, and a friend got me a little notebook

My first thought in it, was in French, about how easy the language was.

I was so excited to see my thoughts on paper. Something concrete, visual, that made you feel something

For the past 15 years, I’ve made language my own.
Wrote about first crushes and how hard it was to be 9.
An later on 10, 12, 15, 18, 19 and 20

I fell in love with the smell and sound of Bic on paper
The idea that my thoughts were now real and immortal.

I fell in love with language and how one word can mean different things.
I fell in love with the only thing that came easy to me, words

I was 6 years old and said. Language is the most beautiful thing ever.
I may be 90 years old and say
Language is the most beautiful life I’ve ever lived