I’ve wanted pretty, soft, hands for as long as I can remember;
thin fingers,
long nails.
The kind that pair well with coffee mugs and bookstores.
The kind you don’t hesitate to kiss;
but mine are riddled with anxiety.
There are scars on my knuckles from walls  that didn’t deserve my anger
and I can’t seem to stop biting at my fingernails.
I will never be the pretty girl with soft hands and thin fingers.
I am the strong girl
who scales mountainsides
and presses my hips into the walls I once used to punish myself.
My hands haven’t been the same since I covered them in chalk and started gripping onto what has become a lifeline for me.
So,
       no,
I will never be the pretty girl with soft hands and thin fingers.
I will be the strong one.

Falling onto his back
But I want to fall on my own
Standing only leaning towards him
He is helping me to cope
Now I realize this
And it is not funny at all
I thought I was stronger
But it was his strength I was measuring
And I needed it
Though now the new times have come
Still wanna love him
But let him go.
So that I finally can simply hold his hand
Without putting all my weight and sorrow
On his shoulder.

I wanna have a bright tomorrow
And see it positively for my own
My greatness is hard to find
In insecure times
When I need to remind myself
Sometimes in rhymes
That my self worth
Is not connected to others
That it's also not dependent on success
That in fact I am already capable
To feel strong and safe on my own
Despite all the trauma I have gone through.

It is hard though
Cause one part still fears
Needs a saviour
Doesn't trust
Doesn't want to rely on myself
Doesn't know that I can help.

How to reach my self,
My hurt inner child?
How to let my partner go
And to rewire myself
With myself?

Can anybody understand what I mean?
I have a deep wound within.
I am working so ******* myself,
Really trying different techniques,
In the end art is what's helping my health and the stone inside of me shrinks.

Though the wound is looking for a substitute
And I don't want to feel like a ******* :D
I just want to give enough love to myself  
Isn't it enough to help myself?

How to end the unhealthy dependency
And still keep my relationship safe?
Does anybody know some kind of recipe?
Because I'm really looking for a way...

I slept in a little too late
a few days that week.

when the pharmacist called
about my prescriptions,
I didn't refill them
for the next month.

I forgot to eat breakfast
and maybe lunch
and I didn't remember
whether or not I ate dinner.

I didn't buckle my seatbelt
when I got into my car.

I didn't show up
when we made plans,
and eventually I stopped
making plans altogether.

I stopped joking about suicide
and you thought that
was a good sign,

but you didn't realize
I stopped joking
because this time,
I was serious.

when I hung up the phone
I said "goodbye"
instead of "goodnight."

and no one tried to stop me
because no one knew

because all of these little changes
seemed to mean nothing.

you didn't see
that I was hurting
until the tiles on
our bathroom floor
turned red.

you didn't see
that I was bleeding
until I had already bled out.

but on that day,
my story did not end.
my funeral was not
that weekend.
my death was not
on that Wednesday.



and now,
when I end the call,
I don't say "goodbye."

I never say "goodbye"
because tomorrow,
I will still be here.

even when it hurts
to simply get out of bed,
I will be here.

I will be here
because I am still breathing.
I am still alive

and there are so many
beautiful Wednesdays
that I haven't seen yet.

The Female form
   Drawn to an energy
   Surrounding a space
   An inkling askew.

☾

Alike to them, I am not
   I do not sing
   Nor do I dance
   I strive to outdo.

☾
  
Beginning this journey
   With sensations of zing
   Do I draw on the spirit
   Emptiness to ensue.

☾

Traits not always sanguine
  My heart will sting
  If I go beyond
  Match only what is true

☾

Exhausted I am ever.
   Do not throw the string
   You’ve come too far
   Do not be subdued.

Let it be owed to the girl who wears struggles as a beaded pearl necklace.
Who never chocked on the words “I need help”.  
Refusing to wither away into the corners of which life pushed her.
Grabbing with a tenacity that assured others this will too heal.
Scars to be ravaged in glitter as if gold was the only thing to bleed.
A woman worth loving in the way she pronounced I, redefined I.
No proclamations of apologies.
Rest assurance that you didn’t need to be broken to learn how to love.  
Never ashamed of the way life made her say sorry before thanking you.
An omen to herself for not loving every part sooner.
Giving leeway to the forgotten little girl.

They tell me to be quiet.
Quiet enough my presence doesn’t make a ruckus.
Small enough that my presence is untouched.
Shrinking into spaces that they wish I was forgot in.
They tell me I speak too loudly.
Take up too much space in the room when I make a proclamation.
My dad was the first man to teach me women shouldn’t talk back.
With every slap to the face my voice grew deeper.
My brother said if I didn’t put myself in a corner, they would do it for me.
With every push I learned to stand my ground.
My mom told me that my slick tongue made me unbearable to men.
So, it grew sharper to lash at those who spite my freedom.
Legs crossed, dressed pressed, and hair slick back in a pony.
Sit pretty but not enough to leave them tempted.
The only wise thing I ever learned from my parents was to carry a key in my hand.
Check your car before getting in.
Walk at night only in company.
Carry your phone, but don’t talk on it.
I always wondered how the world has groomed woman but never refined their men.
Never directed my brother that no meant boundaries.
Never spoke of respect as if its given and not earned.
Never addressed that a woman was object of desire but not possession.
Speak up woman, but not louder than those men around you.
Assert yourself but never over the men.
Be strong, firm but mend as I need you to when I need you to.
If I was to vocal, I was a ***** & if I was so quiet, I was a door mat.
If I was too conservative, I was a ***** and if I was to provocative, I was a *****.
If I was to a leader, I was bossy and if I followed, I lacked a backbone.
I wondered what strength I had in being all of that at once.
How I could be the ****** and the maker.
This was the closest to god I ever felt.
& it makes me wonder if god was a woman too.