Staring
Seeing:
You.
Fishnet stockings,
Ripped jeans,
A Green, flowing button up,
Crystals adorning your collarbones,
Filling your pockets
Runes
Burning unpredicted futures into their denim,
Bracelets
Warming your wrists with the love offered by the souls who gave them to you.
Expression,
For you,
Was never something shown.
Shining,
For you,
Was never something shown.
You
Finally learned how good it feels to look like yourself
To
Put yourself on a shelf
A pedestal
Instead of 6 feet under your shoes.
It has taken
A shoal of revelations
To realize
That the world can only revolve around you
If you let it.
It has taken
18 years
Of contemplation
To realize
You can only lose faith on yourself
If you allow it.
To see
That If you grow
Your potential
To the size of a hydrogen filled giant.
Your emotions,
Like Venus,
And Saturn,
And Neptune,
And Mars,
Will Revolve around your protective flares,
Manipulated
By the gravity
Of your thoughts and choices.
Instead of them
Pulling you
Out of yourself
And forcing you into the simplicity
Of the very atoms
You are made of.
I thought of this as I recalled my always missing the bus as a kid, and how, now, I (almost) always make it on time. This is part I of II.
