goosebumps travel down my frame.
you are near.

i've been lying here for what seems like forever.
eyes shut tight, fists balled, i thought it would go away.
memories of yesterday reappearing behind my eyelids.. sleep was supposed to be my friend.
the one to take away all of my problems and comfort me until i felt myself again.
i suppose sleep failed me too.
it failed to take away the hurt and the pain;
visions of you, wrapped around her like the promise that still envelops my ring finger..
i am afraid.
for i know, if i'm brave enough to peek through my eyelashes,
i would not see you laying there.
this is all your fault.

if i could have one wish, it would be to time travel.
i would go back to that day under that tree..
what kind was it again??
oh yeah, an apple tree.
i can picture all the fallen apples just laying there,
some bruised, some half eaten, others just completely destroyed.
you know, i kind of feel like those apples.
unwanted, damaged.. not really fulfilling my purpose.
somehow i understand.
they too were once picked out among all others,
chosen over every other option
and then suddenly, thrown back.

YOU PICKED ME YOU IDIOT.
YOU CHOSE, ME!

(why was it so easy for you to throw me back)

take a deep breath.
can you feel that?
the warm sun bursting through your window?
you have been given a new kind of warmth.
the spot next to you, the one he once occupied,
is now painted a beautiful yellow,
no trace of grey to be seen.
open your eyes darling,
for today is a new day.
and it's all YOURS.

Hidden behind transparent looking glasses,
she chases red rabbits with ticking hands.

When she nears them,
she feels the wings beneath her bones awakening from their chronic slumber and her hands suddenly burn with the memory of what it’s like to familiarize.

Empty mailboxes and ink stained fingers;
her eyes furiously avoid the image of her palms.
One pair will never be enough.

The door to her conscious transforms into an empty battlefield.
Listen close and hear only the tangled whispers of her former lovers,
for it was they who birthed this war beneath her skin.

Angst trickles slowly into her chest,
filling the new found void.

She had learned to love her temple.
Saw a friendly face every time she encountered her reflection;
understood why it was important to reach this nirvana first.

But like the fostered youth,
there are only so many times one can take back their unwanted pieces without losing them all entirely.

Blue heart beating silently,
she awaits the season where all her colours will change.
Fall.

i am an abandoned house with too many windows.
fragile frame.

i want to kiss you,

everywhere

i want to hold your face in my hands
and i want to feel you lying next to me when my body has given in to exhaustion.

i want to see you smile,
and i want to make you happy.

i want to know what made you,
and i want to know what makes you doubt yourself.

i want to know if you've ever let the voices in your head get to you.
and when you tell me no,
i want to know what they could have possibly said to make you lie to me.

i don't want you to keep yourself hidden.

i want all of you.

i want to know about your demons,
and i promise i won't leave you when you finally tell me about them.

i want to know about the ones who make your days grey,
and about that time you almost let them win.

i want to make you feel powerful
and i want to make you feel loved.

i want you to know that i think you're beautiful,
and that i think that scar above your right eyebrow makes you a work of art.

you are an unfinished painting.

and by the time God is done with you,
you will be beyond perfect.

and when He puts you in a gallery,
next to those who are known as angels,
you will know then,

that you are extraordinary.

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.

White collared men in pinstripe suits sit casually across from one another,
completely indifferent.
They discuss ways to obtain power and how to silence the opposition.
The opposition being women.
Power being the rights to our own bodies.
These are the men who make laws against abortion to disguise their ulterior motives.
Trump’s America they call it.
Where belittling women is somehow a “trend”,
Where this type of thing has become “okay”.
Where the women’s rights movement has been threatened time and time again.
All of this,
In efforts to silence our war cries.
But here’s the thing about us that even history seems to have forgotten.
We Are Women.
Our mothers have been crafting our battle armour since before we were born.
Gave it to us the day we were first interrupted in the middle of a sentence.
They told us to be brave, to be bold, to be unapologetic.
To speak our truth and remain strong even when we feel utterly defeated.
You see,
We don’t really do submissive.
Won’t sit back and let you do as you please.
Rather,
we’ll continue to challenge your authority.
Make you wish you kept your laws off our bodies in the first place.

To those who continue to undermine our capability,
I say to you this.
This body, is my own.
This body, is power.
In fact,
I don’t blame you for being afraid.
Because you and I both know that this body is capable of things so extraordinary that only God Himself can envision them.

You can try to silence us,
To take away our voice.
But we will only grow stronger,
Grow louder.
Angrier.
You will hear us
And you will listen.
My body,
My rules.

i want you to destroy me.

take the jagged pieces of my puzzle like body, apart.

cut down the flowers i've grown in my lungs and douse my dreams in kerosene, burning them all.

i beg of you, construct a black hole and watch as it swallows up the billions of stars that once occupied my now blank stare.

COMPLETELY obliterate me and never look back.

leave me in pieces, scattered amongst those of your past lovers; forgetting about me like you forgot about them.

for this is what it seems you heard me say when i softly whispered that i was in love with you.

As a young girl,
I was taught that I only needed 3 things in life to be happy.
First, I needed a husband. I needed his love and I needed him to take care of me. I also needed to make him happy so that he would never leave me.
Second, I needed a family. I was told having a family would be the greatest joy I’d ever experience and would keep me satisfied for the rest of my life.
Third, I needed a beautiful home that other people envied.
Well..
I grew up.
I experienced all these things
but yet,
I am more unhappy now than I have ever been.
My home feels less like a home,
and more like a prison.
because I am bound to it.
I am bound to that home,  
simply because I am a woman and this is what women do, right?
Because my gender defines me and confines me to this one lifestyle.
After all,
this is what my mother and her mother did,
and they seemed content.
But why should this be it?
I don’t even know who I am!
Ask me what I do,
I’ll tell you
“nothing, I’m just a housewife”.
Ask me about myself,
and I’ll tell you about my family.
because I am not my own person.
I belong to the stigma that my gender should define who I am
and put boundaries on my capabilities.
That I am limited to certain tasks
and I cannot be anything more than I am expected to be.
I have created this illusion that I am satisfied
when I am not.
I am disappointed and I’m wondering if this is it.
Is this really what I am made for?
My life is like clockwork.
Everyday I go through the routines,
over and over,
silently praying for the day when I am free to be whomever I wish.
But for now,
I am nothing.
I am only a housewife.

my heart is a treasure chest-
so valuable, pirates and sailors alike would risk their lives trying to
find it.

i wonder where your heart lies.
have a feeling it lays upon the ocean floor,
waiting for someone like me.

home-like body,
could never find a suitable tenant who wished to stay there.
they often complained about the heating.

I'm losing pieces of myself in places I don't know my way back to.
I often wonder who I once was,
what it was like to be something other than an barren land.