Some days-
I am made of
defective stardust and sadness.
I am all the leftovers
the broken bits and
torn up afterthoughts
all smushed together.
I am queen of the pile
marked "to be trashed"
And-
I am ruler of
the misfit oddities.
I am a collection of puzzle pieces
not meant to fit
but yet shoved together
creating jagged edges and
lumps sticking out all over.
My skin is rough as sandpaper
and my voice a harsh bray.
I am meant to be tagged
"50% off"
because I sell my own self short.
I am a singer without a voice
and an artist with no inspiration.
I am no ones favorite.
Nor what comes to mind when
you're asked
"who makes you happiest?"
I am the leftover food
forgotten
at the back of the refrigerator.
And I am everything lost under the bed
collecting dust and cobwebs.
But other days-
I am a goddess in my own skin.
I make flowers smile
and oceans laugh.
I am made of the Milky Way
and all your favorite constellations.
I am six feet of
gloriousness.
And you can't help
but notice me glow.
I wish-
all my days were spent this way.
But there is no house
without a basement.
Or bright days
without some shadows.
So I just have to remind myself
on the days I spend
more often than not
alone, and toxic.
That tomorrow will be better.
And I'll find my beauty again.