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For just a second,
put your hand on my chest
and feel who I am.
look at the mirror
look at yourself
filled with broken poetries
from shattered dreams
and shattered heart
those deadbeat words
that never made it to your mouth
now choking you to death
those bloodstained verses
for unheard horrible screams
lurking in your head
look, look at yourself
my beautiful belle in disguise
the monsters you’ve tried to hide
the tears you’ve failed to free
look, look at the face you’ve faked
why can’t you just say you’re weak??
habits of belle
pretending is so much easier
 May 2019 lovelywildflower
What you're wearing is not--
You bought the shirt yourself, to remind you of a trip.
The black jeans are from your mother,
                            are from a branch of a store that started back home
Your bracelet is a reminder of your host mother, who made it,
                           (and because you like purple)
Your glasses you need to see, are years old, with constant smudges,
Your hair is plaited because
         your mom used to give you french braids, daily,
         and it's since become a nervous habit
Your hair tye is just old, and used, from
                                           you don't even remember what year.

So, what you're wearing, it's not meaningless.
                                                    ­                              -- it's who you are.
It's the people you miss and the things you keep -
Because you've moved, so many times now, that you know
that everything you own fits into about 12 boxes, and
that's alright.

But it means that what you own -
what you own, is who you are.

And if that's the case,
then you're a mix of anyone who's ever been kind to you -
and that's a lot. A whole lot.
You are everything good.
Nothing spoils you.
You just keep dancing.
You just keep living,
and that excites me.
“ What is happening to me” ?
with “ What is this trying to teach me “?
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