I sat alone, with thoughts so deep,
A mirror showed my soul to peep.
It reflected back my deepest fears,
My pain, my doubts, my unshed tears.

But as I looked into that glass,
I saw beyond the pain amassed.
I saw the strength that I possessed,
To rise above and face the test.

The fire burning bright within,
The will to fight and never give in,
To break the chains and be set free,
To rise above, and truly be me.

So now I sit, not quite alone,
With a newfound strength I've honed.
I see the beauty, the love, the grace,
Reflected back upon my face.

With every challenge that I face,
I know that I can find my place.
For in that mirror, clear as day,
I see the power to light my way.

Gaze at me, with you ever-so-slight smudged lipstick
Pop-punk lyrics issuing from your perfect mouth
Dark circles from the khôl and folly
Forgiveness from your youth
Torsion of perfection into a wry smile
Sober, you say, drunk, who'll walk upon my style?
Who'll dare? I dare, in laying bare, ballet hands,
The contents of my *****; You know, friends,
I may be an actress, and pretentious,
But my ability to lie's contentious.

I like my hairy legs,
They make me feel like a sunbleached cowboy.
They make me feel like a long, lean man with elegant lines and a strong forehead.
I like it when they’re blonde
And they just glisten on my skin.
Like a faux-protection or a cloak,
A delicate barrier between myself
And the world.

Or really I guess I just like the way it looks:
Textured
But smooth.

It looks wild but soft.

A landscape.

I think the hair compliments
The shape of me very well.

I’m always amazed how the hair grows everywhere,
Even on the back of my knees
There is hair

And I like my boyish pretty toes.

I guess I like the sort of genderless aspect to my legs.

From far away they shout
I AM A WOMAN!

But from near they could be anyone’s: hairy with little scars here and there, hairy toes with some dead skin in the toe nail creases. A sort of chunky pink toe there on the end.

A bit of dry callous on my heels. A strong, curved calf muscle. The hollows at my ankles, the delicate depression behind my ankle bones just before the rigid wrinkles of my Achilles tendon.

I like the bulging veins in the arch of my foot when I point my toes
How they press their purple faces against my see-thru skin
Squeezed by the muscles that bump against one another beneath the hard arched bones above
I like the little bubbles of fat that pad my heels, turning bright yellow when I stand on them
Never-smooth legs that even when freshly shaved still prickle
Like a cactus
“Don’t get too comfortable here” they say
These beautiful legs aren’t for rubbing and lounging though my calves love to be pressured

These legs are made for exploration

Beauty is the ocean of copper coils that washes over your mindfulness
Your earth-dawned eyes flutter with every thought and notice everything
Tears dance and fall in tempo as you sink with each emotion in their entirety
Hues of mismatched tones blend together and bless you with an illuminating radiance
Rosy petals settle with sweetness upon your face, bearing love with every kiss
Your shoulders hold the weight of so many worlds
Your chest pains from anger and anguish
And yet your heart beats powerfully in darkness,
with wounds adorning its core, your grip on hope never loosens
I will always love you for that

im not trying to cause a riot
but no more nice girl being quiet
im telling my story this time
and its not my fault you commited the crime
i've been hiding in the dark
healing on my own
but im not that same girl anymore
im not going to pick up my phone

it wasn't "one little mistake"
no, you knew i was barely awake
you took away my choice
but you didn't take away my voice
i'm ready to use it now
to speak up for the truth despite
the backlash i know i will inevitably face
when i look you in the eyes tonight

you told me what happened
while your hand was on my thigh
"its embarrassing you got that drunk"
even my friends turned a blind eye
it took me years to process
a simple caress would cause distress
but now i can say
nothing makes it okay
and nothing gave you the right
when i was passed out
6 years ago, midnight

i will write poetry for myself
admiring all the imperfections
just like people do with art

when i write about other people
frantically scribbling words on a page
to express love
or hate
or something at all

why can't i write the same way for myself
the intense verses and elaborate wording
all used to express a feeling that no combination of words will
ever explain

perhaps if i stare in the mirror long enough
my body will begin to feel like my own,
my face won't distort to a disfigured mess
i'll learn to love my long golden hair
my eyes that look like the earth from outer space
the soft jawline i've always hated
asymmetry embodied

maybe then i'll realize that even scribbles are beautiful too.

I have been in such a place of peace and pure happiness the past few months, but now I can’t tell because maybe I’m moving too quickly or if it’s truly just not the right time.
I’m beginning to question everything and I wonder if My desire to have someone to love me takes over the idea that possibly the ones I chose to love are not ready to love me the way I’m ready to love them.
I’m afraid that if I wait, I will still get my heart broken, I’m afraid that walking away will also be a blow to my heart, the fact that risks can involve being uncomfortable altogether but is the risk really worth the level of uncomfortable this may bring.