i tend to escape myself almost hourly
I've built my life to be the day I once could only dream of
so why can't i take comfort in the home i made my own within myself
and in him
perhaps if i stopped dreaming i would be forced to be present
and then the one dream i dreamed to come true will be taken away
cause how dare i live a life that should only exist in dreams
I've convinced myself that i am unworthy of anything more
and that is some *******

i've always hated that my birthday is in the spring time
why not in the fall like the precious autumn girls who can make angels in the leaves?
but i've learned to dance in the rain
and tend to my garden even when water was sparse
so this year, i will relish the bloom
i've watered my seeds and nurtured my soil.
i refuse to waste another trip comparing my leaves with hers.

maybe that can be comforting
somewhere in an alternative world, she is truly feeling herself.

If I did my hair like her, could my face by your sunflower?

I am the plant and you are the gardener
My leaves are limp
I try to stretch towards the sky with all my might but the little water you bestowed upon me to help me grow was almost like gasoline meant to **** my vibrant dance
I am the little girl and you are the father
I sat on your shoulders to know what it was like to stand tall
I asked you to walk slower so i could follow your footsteps
As i skipped, and walked, and hiked far behind I never felt your hand reach for mine to pull me by your side
My garden was large my soil was gold
But the seeds you used to plant for me broke in the palm of your hand
Whenever you felt the need to prove you were the man
With every purse of your lip, with every vein in your temple, the fire in your voice as you pricked at my flaws ripped my leaves, they crumbled and fell
Now I'm the woman and they are the man
I use them as the fountain to seek the water you didn't drip
I use their puddle as a mirror to process my own reflection
I search the hug you never stretched to give
I long for the feeling that my branches are not too much to carry

I am a heart searching for a pulse
The courage to look a man in the eye and not be blinded by fear
The will to give my soul to another and not feel triggered to retreat
The strength to embrace the soil on my feet, find my stance firm on the ground
Be head to head, chest to chest with a man I see
And whisper unapologetically, "*******, this is me"

You were the gardener that didn't water my seeds
I am the woman who will nurture my leaves

it sang the melancholy tune of regret
of frustration
the small breeze of a promise that it would all get better
the pain would subside
the failure of my breath would discontinue
i maybe could breathe up in the clouds
or down in the dirt
where fresh flowers are wilted
but the smell still captures the air

but then i thought of you
and i realized your face when you found out
and i couldn't bear
to fail you again.

The distance between the promise/possibility/MAYBE concerning the fate of our hearts is unbearable.

The promise that of promises that you are sipping your morning coffee
Eating a too toasted bagel
Maybe making love to someone you think is the "one", YOUR ONE.
Waiting for the clock to stop ticking
Begging for the world to become silent
Praying the woman lying next to you to be your forever.

But then the clock resumes
The noise commences
The woman kisses you tenderly on the mouth and whispers "I don't think I can do this anymore".

You kindly escort her out
You make a bad cup coffee
You burn your everything bagel wrestling with the piercing thoughts "I should really just give up"

But then maybe you think of someone like me..

Someone who could make you laugh
Someone who fills the room with her vibrato and her heart
Someone who you will grab your burnt bagel and add her favorite jam and tell you she'll make it work and sprinkle some brown sugar in the cup of coffee to make it easier for you to stomach.
Someone who you lie beside at night knowing she was there all along
Just in a different bed
Across town, wiping her tears from heartbreak wondering if you even exist.

And then we'll both wake up in the morning
Reach for each other impulsively or maybe already find ourselves entangled in one another
The clock is still ticking but we are thankful for its madness
Because despite all the time we spent mending out wounded, blistered hearts
We lie here together and our inner spirits whisper
"Thank you for not giving up".