i'll bet you don't know pain like I do
bruises and aches form a beautiful painting
green and purple, cruel and patient
and the picture feels like home
i'll bet you don't miss pain like I do
the stab of something snapped or broken
twisted, wasted, lose all hope, and-
ah, this feels like home

Five years old we were,
When we promised that we would never
Leave each other,
That we'd be best friends forever.
Seven years old we were,
When you broke your leg at gymnastics, and I
Lay by your bed for hours, reading you
Every Golden Book ever printed.
Nine years old we were,
When I developed my first crush,
And together we giggled for hours, and I thought
My cheeks would be permanently blushing.
Eleven years old we were,
When you transferred to a different
School district and although it wasn't far,
Our farewell was plagued by sobbing.
Thirteen years old we were,
When we fought for the first time,
Something stupid about a guy, and I
Don't think you ever fully forgave me.
Fifteen years old we were,
When I went to your house, and your
Mom told me you were out at a party.
You hated parties.
Seventeen years old we were,
When I went to your national gymnastics meet,
Uninvited, of course, and afterwards you
Yelled at me in front of the cameras.
Nineteen years old we are,
I am off at college, and I haven't heard from you
In two years, and all I can think is
Where are you?
Twenty-one years old I am,
And I realize there is no "we" or "us'
Anymore, and I no longer care
Where you are.

hidden energy, gymnastics

Being in gymnastics
Is like being in an abusive relationship
Everything just tells you "NO"
But you still stay

From the bars,
And how it releases the grips of your hands
To the beam,
Which only aims to make you wobble and fall off
To the vault,
Running full speed to it only to make you miss the vault
To the floor,
Wherein you try to flip and twist only to be defeated by Newton's law of gravity

With the stupid scoring system
Pointing out every flaw
With a deduction
Just cause your bra strap is showing
jeez!

And how we are trained to achieve the unachievable —
How every move is supposed to be precise
Every muscle squeezed and tight —
Perfection

And the fact that
You'll never actually be the best
There's always a harder skill
After you've achieved what you may think
Is your "hardest"

It pushes you
To your breaking point
Forcing you to be
This perfect formed strong gymnast
Which pays so much costs
Literally blood, sweat and tears

It tells you that
Every ******* time you fall
You just gotta get back up
And try again
That no matter how much sore you are
You gotta **** it up
And do it again
And again and again and again
Until you finally get it

But there are these magical moments
those little moments of pure happiness
When you get a skill you've been working on
When coach praises you for your improvement
When you get over your fear
And when you stand on top of that platform
Knowing you gave it your all

These moments
Are what keep us going
These moments
Are what we come back for
Time after time after leaving the gym saying
"I hate training!"
There's just something about
These moments so special
That keeps us wanting more

And I will never
ever
Stop loving gymnastics
No matter how many times it hurts me

Pursuing your dream with no excuses
Aiming for the best while
Staying humble
Stay grounded to your roots and
If you are brought down, stand up and keep going
On and on and on and remember,
No one else will help you, but yourself

Words tattooed her thighs.
Chocolate hair fell in her eyes.
Muscle queen stomped
gymnastick,
round silver poles.
She was no stripper,
but an athlete
for tips
and hand shakes
and bills in her
cracking her face,
her face must be
cracking to
***-grabbing lions,
prowling LA's
city sierra bored.
I couldn't imagine
Queen Courtney crying.
But upside down,
floating disco lights
exposed pursed face shows.
She girated
***-lined hips
for tips, not ego.
Splits and tricks
choking chuckling girls
saluting her routine,
tossing one's,
wishing they were ten 0's.

She looked magnificant.
I asked her if she was a gymnast.
She said something like that,
eyes fixed on the sleek floor,
strong arms chilled by the cold —
men with thick wallets and no home.
So I gave her my coat.

When Sadie was a little girl
She dreamed that she could fly.
Her wide eyes saw the world above;
And she was born to sail the sky.

Her coaches said she was to small,
So frail, that she would break.
The world would always hold her down
She had to snap awake.

But little Sadie closed her ears
And shut her eyes so tight.
She stood up on her tippy toes
And tried with all her might

To make herself look big and tall
Cast her shadow on the clouds,
But when she asked the sun to play
He said she just was not allowed.

But that could not slow Sadie down,
Not even just a bit.
She trained and worked all day and night
And they began to see her grit.

Then one day her moment came
As she stepped up to the bar
The world was quiet, still, at last
It was her turn to be a star.

She twirled and flipped so gracefully
Dazzling the crowd below
Not a soul denied the beauty
Of super Sadie’s flying show.

Her heart was strong and vibrant
But her body couldn’t hold
With one quick snap, her wings gave out
And she started to feel cold.



The ground was hard, the world was dark
And Sadie couldn’t feel
She looked and saw a man in white
And wondered, was this real?



Sadie’s all grown-up now
And her body works just fine
She’s all dressed up in glowing robes
And now she really shines.

She won’t regret a single day
Or what she tried to be
But now she has a different dream
And she goes by Dr. D.

Her dream is to help little girls
And lift them when they fall,
And make them shine
And show the world
That you’re never
Truly
Small.