you look just like her
your body, your face, your hair.
you look most like her
when you’re defiant,
an attitude that rivals her.
you’re stubborn and you’re wrong
but father forgot to mention
that i look just like her.
my body, my face, my hair.
i look most like her
when i’m yelling my face red,
an anger that rivals hers.
i’m tenacious and confident,
i have faith in myself.
yes, father forgot to mention
that i wear my mother well.

your greedy hands are no greedier than mine,
as your fingers travel past my waistline,
thinking that i’m about to waste my time
on a man like you,
“too good to be true,”
kinda borrowed, about to be blue.
my greedy hands will clench,
as i lean closer on that bench,
ignoring your disgusting cigarette stench.
“i’ll break your ******* jawline
if your hands don’t leave my waistline,”
and you didn’t waste time

running away.

i take what i love about myself and wear it as a badge of honor, but at night i stare at the ceiling
and list all the things i hate. i stamp it in a
journal and time-date it, bookmark the
page i left off on and i put the leather
bound away. once a year i visit
what i hate about myself and
find that as long as the
feelings are inked
on a page and
not weighing
heavy on my
chest, there
isn’t much
to hate
at all.

☾

Yesterday I cried to the moon
as she wiped my tears away
made my worries disappear
so I could sleep again.

☼

Today I smile at the sun
and it shines back on me,
what a wonderful world
to be alive;
to be me.