You are clean cotton doused in Windex
the OCD mom
the sam's club size bottles of hand sanitizer
the peace
the calm
I am the glass window smeared with fingerprints
industrial sharpie zig-zagged across a white wall
I am battle cries across an open field
I am the instant regret of a slammed door
If you love me you can love the valley of flowers between my thighs but you can't be afraid of the blood and gore
Sometimes I wonder if my skin is one solid calloused mass
or layers of paint peeling away off of a house
I wonder if as the paint on my shins chips away
you can see the bruises from bike pedals
I wonder if you can hear my painful shouts
I wonder if you grab a hold of the layer covering my penal gland
you can read a hardcover novel about my worry and doubt
I wonder if you can see the jagged scars along my spine
from every time I got friendly with somebody's knife
I wonder if you can see the way I smiled through the spite
shook hands with the same people
who drove daggers through my spirits
laughed when the rain fell the hardest
and always hardest it might
I know that you can love my best dressed persona
my freshly brushed teeth
But with my good hair days
come the days I nearly rip it from my scalp
Then there are days when I am completely in love with me
I am a disproportional mess of history
a collection of experiences that have begun to shape my existence
I am not made of stone
I am flesh and bone
I am a heartbeat and lungs of persistence.
I am clay in your hands, and I am at your fingers demand.
There is music when you strum a guitar
but it still holds importance when it is silent in it's stand
Don't mistake my quiet for doubt
I am trying my very best
when I'm a river try being my drought
Pull me closer
don't shut me out
You said our love could be a garden
maybe we need is just a little more rain
We've got the love part down
Our kisses are roses
touches are carnations
There could be a petal for every ounce of our pain
Our garden has been planted we just need some patience