you had made this bed too quickly,
not realizing the sheets weren't fitted
and the blankets were tangled around our limbs.
you were so used to lying in it,
you didn't know how to be honest.

don't reach for me with hands
stained from the ink you used to rewrite your stories.
don't speak to me with words
that should have rotted out your teeth.
don't look at me with eyes
that I once saw my happiness in.

I will not play nice.
I will not worship
the storm that destroyed my home.

in the future,
my life will be so full of love,
you won't be able to look beyond it.
I hope it leaves you blind,
so you will never see the person I'll become
without you.

releasing a bird into a bigger cage
is not freedom.

my body is a phantom limb.
sometimes I can feel myself
being the person I wish I was.

my mother is both my stagehand
and my audience.
when the stage lights burn out,
she will be there to drive the darkness
back into the corners.
when the flimsy backdrop crumbles,
she will build a new world for me
while cleaning up the ruins of the old.
she will wipe the exaggeration from my face,
and still applaud when I am myself.

my mother is both the moon and the sun.
her voice brightens the cloudiest days
and her laughter is a warm embrace.
out of all of the stars in the galaxy,
she is the one that keeps me alive.
when the day comes to an end,
and all I can see is night,
she will pull back the waves
when I feel like I am drowning.

my mother is everything.
she is the water that nourishes these roots.
she is the reason love grows
from this family tree.

It is becoming
So hard to be that monster
That people admire
Like watching a Trainwreck
Which gives the simple
Something to talk about
And getting older
Makes it more difficult
By the day
I have rendered myself so frail
Fighting a young man's war
Without the concern
Of becoming the old man
Who calls the shots
I fill with worry
That when that beast dies
Because I can no longer maintain him
No one will love
who I actually am
As I wonder
If anyone
Actually ever knew

Pretending not to care
seems to be
the easiest route
for those with bigger hearts.
Although,
you come to find
as you walk that road
the pitfalls are much more dangerous.

May I never be content
May I never be complete
For when we stop evolving
We become obsolete

they say that every 27 days,
the human skin replenishes itself.
how nice it is to think, every 27 days,
I have another chance.

this is not the end.

this is the beginning of the next few weeks
where my skin will turn
bruises into flesh,
scabs into scars,
hurt into healing.

where my words will change
apologies into appreciation,
anger into tolerance,
hurt into healing.

where my mind will change
imbalance into equilibrium,
and bury the person I am now
underneath the person I will become.

I just have to be here to see it.
I just have to keep waking up
one more day.

the person you are
and the person you want to become
bear the same roots.
you are already her,
you just haven't learned how to be.
putting yourself back together is treacherous,
but you don't have to do it alone.

your very existence is rooted in worth:
the 12 percent of carbon in your body
is the same carbon that creates diamonds under pressure.
the .2 milligrams of gold in your blood
is the same gold people spend a lifetime trying to earn,
and having you in my life makes me richer
than I'd ever be with money.

broken is not synonymous with useless.
no matter how many pieces
make up a mosaic,
it will still reflect light.