I am the stain blue candy leaves on your tongue
eyeliner slightly smudged from happy tears
bubble gum that popped on your face
and bright paint stains on brown hands.
I am messy handwritten cursive
and glossy red lipstick prints.
I am singing off key and dancing in parking lots.
I am the laughter that makes your stomach ache
and I am the quickening of the heart.
I am gasping for breath
as I am the sweet smell of summer.
I am sunsets without end
and s’mores that leave chocolate on your hands.
I am not clean sheets unless they are a fort
but I am bold ink that bled onto the next page
and sometimes I am broken glass
clear but for your blood on a jagged end.
Sometimes I am sobbing on the shower floor
and exquisite pain that makes your shoulders shake.
I am fists clenched so hard your nails cut your palm,
the cold and powerful waves of a seastorm.
And I am learning that’s okay.
I am not in your box
and I am not yours to define;
I am mine.