I’ve cried in more dressing rooms
Then I care to admit,
I had the feeling that
It wasn’t the clothes;
It was me that didn’t fit.
But we aren’t supposed to all
Conform to “off the rack” shapes
And grow and skink so that
Our clothes can accommodate.
We are supposed to be
The standard they set.
Our clothes should fit all of us
So that we can feel our best
Don’t let those numbers intimidate you:
You’re the standard to be set.
That’s what the clothing industry
Hasn’t figured out yet.

We had a argument

I don’t even know why
Or how it started but
I began to cry
Uncontrollably and
You didn’t
Understand why
But in the past
Arguments like that
Would end in fist fights
And cruel words
So when you didn’t
Lash out at me
I couldn’t
comprehend
It

Or that kind of love

I used to want a lover to write a love poem about me

So this is a love poem for me, by me

I make my bed every morning, because it’s the first place I think about being after a long day
And sometimes I lay out pyjamas and face masks in case things don’t go so okay
I drink coffee on my own and enjoy exploring new sites and cities alone
I smile when I lock eyes with strangers and aren’t afraid to strike up conversations
I go swimming in the ocean alone, it’s the only way I truly feel the energy in my bones
I finish hot showers with a blast of cold water and smile when I see fathers and daughters
I think love is perplexing and don’t trust easy
But rest easy knowing I’m right here if I ever need me