Who am I?

I am not the powder on my face
I am not my clothes sweeping grace
I am the voice that flows from my mouth
I am the warm winds from the south

I am not just skin and bones
I am more than that to behold
I am the flower that tries to break through the snow
I am the sunshine that glows

I am not my legs and arms
I am much more than their charms
Even when my legs grow week
The spirit that made them run will still speak

I am more than a physical thing
I am more than a human being
I am a soul that's free and wild
I have the love of a child.

the one thing that really keeps me from being myself is,
well,
me
traits, quirks, moves that are innately built in to my genetic makeup
are also the things that prevent me from who I am
the one thing that really keeps me from being myself is this tight kilted skirt
so tight, in fact, that because I can hardly breathe I find it hard to say what I need to
held in by this waistband that divides me in two
the one thing that really keeps me from being myself is this bottle of wine that I have lost myself in,
one, two, three times
alone,
unfocusing the lens of my present onto a picture of the past,
to recede,
the one thing that really keeps me from being myself is this profile that I hide behind
this picture of me, head cocked, sly smile, eyes wide
is that really me?
the one thing that really keeps me from being myself is my big mouth that drags me into unfortunate situations,
reveals too much or too little,
gossips, quivers, spits fury and turns upward in a forced motion of supposed happiness
am I –
happy?
am I –
myself?
this city keeps me from being myself because I’m afraid that around every corner that I might see the face of someone I long for or long to harm
the subway keeps me from being myself because there are too many bodies pushing against mine that I am afraid if I touch one more person I might mould into them
the sun keeps me from being myself because in its light I shut my eyes so tightly you can’t see into my soul
this stabbing pain in my stomach keeps me because it’s the only thing I feel and it prevents me from ingesting new moments
my mind is the real culprit:
stories,
stuffed to the brim with tales
chock full of figures from back then and now
blurred visions of faces begged to be forgotten
she steals my eyes sometimes,
my mind,
pulls them out of their sockets and reverses them
to see the gears turning
“I can feel you disappearing”
I am gone;
a cyborg,
my body disintegrates but my mind lives on
transhuman;
transcendent
“myself”
is in photographs ,
imprinted in the sand,
(I always look back to where I sat to remind myself that I leave a mark),
and in words
in –
words
yes,
the curvature of my transcribed thoughts
I live in
words
how foolish I am!
they hold me like my favourite old sweater
smell of my skin
breathe with ease
but now: words on page should mimic words from one’s mouth,
no?
I should speak what I write and write what I speak,
should I not?
guard only my deepest secrets, but speak honestly and freely
then, will I be myself?
fine then, the truth:
once, when I was seventeen I grabbed the hand of a boy I liked and held it in mine to know what it felt like to feel another’s warmth,
when I was four, I lost my hearing to a monster that lived in my canal,
and I never speak of it because although I can’t hear well,
I can feel the vibrations of dishonesty and hate
last week, I broke a bag, my headphones, a mug and a chip in half and cried because I literally felt everything around me fall apart
there:
the truth,
now:
can you see me?
or are the pages of my body still slowly filling up with my stories?
perhaps I will never be “myself” until I lie on my back drawing my last breath
and I reread the words on my skin
and finally find
me.
until then, one last truth:
the one thing that really keeps me from being myself and the one thing I fear will continue to do so:
is me.

It's over!
Its behind me
I've let it go
The pain that held me ransom in its throes

No longer hurting,
No longer killer
My life is much more complete and fuller

I've learnt my lessons, my time beckons
A chance to live now freely
A time to discover

I am reflected.
every day, I sit framed
or stand,
or walk past
a frame
reflected,
me
at times I pass this frame and see all of me
other times, I am missing
other times even, I recede
to a former self
I see me at fifteen:
brown haired, blue eyed
starving for love behind the pane of a computer screen
I used to watch myself framed
and dissect every feature
too many hairs out of place,
metal upon metal inside a mouth that either spoke too much or hardly enough
no mind of my own
sometimes I see her,
fifteen,
through the reflection of the subway doors
as a couple tenderly caress each other behind me
fifteen whispers softly through those doors:
“love me too”
as the train pulls into the station
and other times, I see ten reflected
ten,
rabbit teeth and soft hands
a burst of fireworks
disappearing between pages
once I saw her by the harbour
floating on the surface of a body of water holding three islands
the sun was gone
she saw me crying and said:
“don’t leave me”
ten,
and rain fell on her cheeks
I couldn’t tell if they were my tears or the sky’s
and other times,
rarely,
I see five
blunt bangs,
shining smile,
brave spirit,
she was the beginning of my strength
hearing very little but feeling it all,
seeing,
I saw her in a jewelry box,
five,
bold and brass
strands of pearl and gold and emerald might have clouded her otherwise
but she s h o n e
she said, as she always did,
“tell me a story”
I used to tell of a mermaid lost at sea,
or a doll brought to life,
but all I could think of this:
a woman is trapped in a mirror
twenty-two
fixated on this face she has witnessed evolve
she sees the specks of blue laced with green of her eyes
documents the crackled skin on her lips
breathes in the musty and city smell of her hair
she sees the lines and cracks on her hands
and the way she hunches and fidgets
but she cannot move from this mirror,
this frame,
because she is afraid to move forward without looking back
in this mirror lives
twenty-two
fifteen
ten
and
five
and she loses herself in them
trying to lock in all their features
once, before becoming trapped,
this woman walked by the window of a vintage store
and when she turned to catch herself, she saw nothing
she wants to see everything
always
catch glimpses of
twenty-two
fifteen
ten
and
five
everywhere, always
but she wants to be reminded
and not haunted
“show me your teeth”
she wishes,
“let me see you smile”
and now I am – the woman – is coming to realize
that maybe she will never be free from the trap of the mirror
maybe she will always see herself reflected
but that, in itself,
is a gift:
to see oneself reflected
to know where you have come from,
and where you are going.

Every day is like another challenge
Another chance to survive
We boast and gloat
Off the little we know
You discover more when you are open
With no expectations of what’s to be
Until you develop your own morals
You unfurl your tainted schemes
Ruin your reputation
There is no much you've failed to seek
Oh darling
Your intentions pure
Not pure enough to save the tainted ground in which you step
I can tell you’re upset
About the outcomes of the dreams
May you weep in sorrow?
Even though tomorrow
Holds another key
To another door
To another world of opportunity
If only you’re crusted eyes could see
The potential of passion
Within the being
Let your veins bleed out the poison
Your induced drug like reality
Binging on sweet alcohol and smoking down your regrets
But are they regrets? Or disappointments of who you are
We see those nights reflect in the mirror
The grim look upon your young face
The crinkle marks faded where your smile used to be
Running from fears and broken hearts
Sitting in the rain
Cold, worn and rejected
When even turned up in the dirt
They still pick for more
I’m fearful to die alone
To fade unnoticed
To have loved is to have felt great pain
To have lived is to have gained and lost
When the day is old and you lay to rest your head
Don’t be troubled by your past
Or fear the unknown
For one day we will stumble upon
The greatest gift
Unconditional love and affection

Lay my head down...no time to cry,
  for there is little time to discover…
how the next dream may be comprised.
These are the moments no price could buy,
  for this love is so strong no time or distance…
could bare to conscribe.
Since the moment I first caught your eyes,
  it was evident to me…
from the way my heart replied.
From there it all unraveled & time fell shy,
silent poetry quickly written…
  an intricate chemistry so simply revived.
A graceful chaos of knots-never to be untied,
as our souls dance…
  and blissfully intertwine.
And now…with every goodbye,
the unsettling pain…
  may never subside.
It is as if the sun & moon have left the sky,
& I am left with the chilling darkness…
  for my soul to reside.
In search for a comforting place to lie,
I find bliss in the suffering…
  for my heart is obliged.
My aura cutting through the darkness-i try,
but these mystical journeys…
  just can't be described.
With you it is always worth the ride,
a precious experience-a vivid perspective…
  an inspirational drive.

Every day is like another challenge
Another chance to survive
We boast and gloat
Off the little we know
You discover more when you are open
With no expectations of what’s to be
Until you develop your own morals
You unfurl your tainted schemes
Ruin your reputation
There is no much you’ve failed to seek
Oh darling
Your intentions pure
Not pure enough to save the tainted ground in which you step
I can tell you’re upset
About the outcomes of the dreams
May you weep in sorrow?
Even though tomorrow
Holds another key
To another door
To another world of opportunity
If only you’re crusted eyes could see
The potential of passion
Within the being
Let your veins bleed out the poison
Your induced drug like reality
Binging on sweet alcohol and smoking down your regrets
But are they regrets? Or disappointments of who you are
We see those nights reflect in the mirror
The grim look upon your young face
The crinkle marks faded where your smile used to be
Running from fears and broken hearts
Sitting in the rain
Cold, worn and rejected
When even turned up in the dirt
They still pick for more
I’m fearful to die alone
To fade unnoticed
To have loved is to have felt great pain
To have lived is to have gained and lost
When the day is old and you lay to rest your head
Don’t be troubled by your past
Or fear the unknown
For one day we will stumble upon
The greatest gift
Unconditional love and affection

"I miss you so much."
"Run away with me."
"You're my girl 3/23/14."
"Ali was here."
"Big kiss!"
Hidden notes.
The pleasure of finding new pieces of you.
Wanting, yet not wanting to search
Because meeting the last one
Seems like it might mean
There is nothing left to discover.
You are here but you are gone.
You were my safety, but now
You are my cell phone.
You are my computer.
You are a lived-in T and sweater
Which I suffocate myself with
In order to feign sleep without your touch.
You are a used facecloth
And an unwashed pillowcase.
You are the crumbs in my carpet.
You are the strands of hair that cling to my scarf and brush
That did not come from the scalp I wear.
You are the blooming lilies left behind.
You are a faint aroma in the air
And
You are the steady thump of a heartbeat against an ear
Deeply rooted in my memory.
All these I know.
But the one blue sticky note that still evades me…
It is mystery.
It is you, *unlearned.
It is my motivation.
It is my vice.
It is the sweet symphony
That keeps me afloat in the dark water.
Ocean waves.
Blue squares.
Where?