my scars are beautiful, a map of me
like the one on my knee
from bad poison ivy
the one on my calf
where I was hit with a piece of fence
the one on my left eyebrow, dead center
my personal favorite, prominent in every picture
the one on my chest
from when I fell off my bike
each one is a story
each one is beautiful
scars are lovely

I take a stand-in my head
I plan out words I should've said
I wish I could stand up to you
but I stay silent and accept what isn't true
I believe the things you say about me
they cloud my eyes until it's all I see
One day I'll stand up tall
and scream until I finally fall
but it won't be because of you
it will be in spite of you

listen here-
you may have been the monster
under my bed
the thing I feared, the darkness at night
the panic when the lights went dim
and you may have been the monster in my head
consuming my every thought
shadowing my being
but my dear, you don't get to be the monster anymore
It's time for me to take a turn.
Sweet dreams.

sitting on a wooden bench
swinging my legs, knees scabbed and shins bruised
an old home phone pressed to my ear
"what snack should I bring, when I see you again?"

"ooh, blueberries please, mom!!"
"and can you bring my old stuffed cat? I want to see her again."

"Of course, baby. You can eat the whole carton of blueberries if you want, and Bella will be happy to see you."

I still have the old black cat with the orange burn mark on her shoulder.
Blueberries are still my favorite fruit.

Some things stay the same.
And some things will always change.
like how I never saw you again
except in pictures on your facebook
where you looked happy, healthy
with my baby sister
I'll never get to meet.
I miss you mom.
and I still sleep with Bella.
I just forget where she came from.

blowing bubbles on my porch
tiny fingers
with chipped purple polish
reach out to grab them
chubby face
surrounded by a halo of knotty curls
laughs in delight
tiny feet
shoved into little pink crocs
dance around in joy
big brown eyes
full of curiosity
admire the bubbles with a pure childlike happiness
that I can only dream of possessing again

the clock ticks forward
you think it's too fast
you want to slow it down
somehow make it last

Your voice wants to be heard
To be more than just air to no avail
Because it speaks truth
It is beautiful

sometimes you swallow your words
you forget to be loud
but your optimism shines through
even the darkest cloud

It makes people realize
That maybe
They're not the only ones

Make them look to the left and see you
Struggling too
Living
And laughing and crying

Those words are more than air
Because air can't possibly feel this much like a hug
Like the feeling when you finally find a tree
And you just embrace it

You're that tree Elena
Like the one from your poem
It was swaying in the wind
Letting life move it beautifully

You reach up like the tree too
And you dare to say that there is a way
Always

And are trees just gray?
No
They are so beautiful
And their colors are so vibrant and beautiful and poetry

you are a burst of color
amidst clouds of gray
your words bring joy
to people every day

You are not just gray, Elena, like you said
I think they're right there, always
Even if they're hard to spot
They appear at every smile you make possible
And every beautiful word you write

you give your advice
to people you don't know
you brighten their days
but forget to go slow

But it isn't your responsibility, dear
You don't always have to be the tree for everyone
Eventually it gets claustrophobic when there are so many things
That you don't get sunlight for yourself

you are an amazing soul
with a wondrous light
when life kicks you down
you put up a fight

dearest girl,
You deserve it
You deserve all of it
The sun
And rich soil
The love
The warmth of the hug
And a break from it

You deserve it all