hypocrisy is something that comes easy to me.
often feel the words falling out of my mouth but never taste what they mean.

lips know exactly what words to whisper when tear stained cheeks and broken pieces appear;
spent years formulating the right kind of glue to put them back together.

i find myself throwing out a never ending supply of lifesavers,
without even a cloud of thought to what might happen to my small boat with all this extra weight.

sometimes, little holes emerge on the worn down wood,
and suddenly all my passengers jump ship.

stuck figuring out how to fix them on my own,
most often they are covered up with only bandages.

every so often, my procrastination becomes bad karma and we both sink.
thoughts heavy like an anchor, my body lies contently on the ocean floor.
water filling my lungs like the feeling of giving in fills my frame.

self love is the biggest storm i’ve ever had to deal with.

lost at sea since i was ten years old,
it was then that i became acutely aware the space i took up.

had rolling hills occupying places where my best friend had only plains
and my smaller self never really felt small.

fast forward to the present,
where i’m often not present because i have made myself little in the only way i could.

now made up of whispered opinions and avoided eye contact,
i wonder if my younger self would smile at the thought of being slight.

i can teach you how to be content with yourself.
i can talk you through the motions.
i can tell you that i wouldn’t change a thing about you and mean it.
i can love everyone but myself.