Why do they demand so many things from us?

Hair color must be natural.
Go to church.
Get married.
Have children.
Make more money.
Limit your language.
Do not get tattoos.

This is my body, this is my spirit, this is my life.
No one may understand you.
You may feel no one loves you for you.
You may hate yourself for being so different.

But you are amazing.
You are perfect in your imperfection.
You are strong.
You are talented.
You make this world a better place because you dare to be different.

Dare to be yourself.
Because it matters.

How is it that a glass can go from empty,
to brimming,
within mere hours?

One strong pour.

My intuition never leads me wrong,
and yet I've been surprised a number of times.
Where did this come from?

What are we building?
But better yet, what are we building it on?

Small sips could never quench it.
Deep breaths could never soothe it.

And I'm left to watch the glass.
As it stirs within itself.

We aim to prove ourselves strong and without need.
Our target is someone who we want to desire us.
Our blow is that we never desired them at all.

And the arrow may be removed from their flesh.
But the words will be branded across their mind.

And the hurt will never fade from memory.

Smoke and fire and oil and fog.
Palm trees, brown lawns and smog.
The last drag on your cigarette in the early morning dew.

The last thread on your navy skirt,
unravels from old into new.

How to tell the time,
when you no longer feel it at all.
When you water yourself,
but grow smaller,
not tall.

When the leather strap around your waist,
merely hides your only fate.
When at the end of the day,
on your taxi ride home,
you find yourself all alone.

And you take the last drag on your cigarette in silence.

I ache to feel that embrace.
The one where your whole being feels understood.
Where you can watch as the world washes away.

I'm just getting to know you.
The feel of your fingertips so foreign,
the smile you put on so sweet.

I think of you in the smallest of things.
Elegant words, rainy windows, clouded skies.

The only way I can describe it is,
that I'm curious for you.

There's ***** dish water stewing in the kitchen sink.
There's a ghost of passion past,
Stopping to take a drink.
There's more to her surface than what you think.

But all you want is all you ever wanted.
It's just a fantasy.
And it's time to pull the plug.

The sweetest nectar,
The most sour twist.
The warmest hope,
The ice left behind to thaw.

Why is it we have to lose it all,
to gain so much more.

I don't recognize this face in the mirror.
This freshly polished complexion.
I picture the 6 year old me at my side.
Looking up at me.  

My suitcase in hand.

I hope she would smile.
This adventure is for you, kid.

xoxo