Watch my bones extrude
from a thin layer of flesh
stretched over my skeletal form

Is this what control looks like?

Is this how I want to present to the world?
impossibly small
startlingly small

Or should I take up space?
unapologetic and proud

That's the goal
that's the plan
tiny in the distance
a real destination

.
.
.
.
*If I was the question
Would you be the answer?

What if alpacas are a hairy type of land fish?
If the moon is made of cheese does that mean space cows are really a thing?
Why do people say give things time when everything significant thing that happens does so in a moment?
What if the government assigned famous people before they were famous and that's why a lot aren't really talented?
Why do schools promote sleep and extracurriculars then give you so much homework you don't have time to do anything else?
Why does "I love you" not mean anything anymore?
Is it normal to ask so many questions?
Is normal even a thing?
Which religion is true and how do we know?
What if mentally ill people just see the world as it is and they're medication is just to keep a secret?
Who is actually reading all of this?
Why are we living if the world is just going to be engulfed by the sun's explosion or our own nuclear warfare?
Why do most girls sing breakup songs and most guys sing love songs?

I wouldn’t like this.

A class full of uncomfortable individualised strangers.
An over head projector,
prodding, obvious questions,
trying to ascertain the exact purpose or meaning.
The space for ambiguity is closed up like a canon eclipsed by an earthquake.
Highlighter and underlining of a spontaneous experience.
They are trying to make water into concrete.
I just want it be able to bubble and foam and languish
but they want to pin it down.
I would be sad and disgusted if I saw my floaty feelings
pin boarded up onto the wall for dissection
Do not treat my insides in this way

Growing up, I was never trained to love Wonder Woman,
So when everyone threw her praise,
I knew I had to connect with her on my own.

I was never taught how to love her.

In the late hours, I found comfort in an
unmade bed, curled under her arm, over the curve in
her chest, slowly moving in from her shoulders.

She was raised hiding her heartstrings behind her ribs,
carrying an iron fist,
naturally trained to always protect emotion more than herself.

Bending structures and norms in society.

We always had the same gaps, yet somehow in other ways we
fit perfectly together.

Surrounded by others, we lived in a world on our own,

arms tangled like earbuds strewn across messy notes of pristine ideas.

Instead, we spent nights eating chocolate, playing cards, the background of
cliché yet novel sitcoms drawing us closer together.

Dissecting our hearts and minds in the early hours of the morning before
putting them back together and going back to another day.

See, we're never actually taught to love the people we seek to love more.
Here, I failed to understand how to connect, how to fuse two hearts together,

how to stop something right from going terribly wrong.

Has it been that long?
Since your gray eyes first met mine?
Since I first saw your smile?
Since I first heard your laugh?
Since I felt your hair brush against my face?
Since I heard beautiful words come out of your mouth?
Since I watched them fall onto paper?
Since I last looked into your eyes?
Since I last touched your hand?
Since I last heard your voice?
Since I last saw your face?
Has it really been that long?