I can find sanctuary with as many people as I please
But it’s with myself that I need to find ease, where tears
Can flow as freely as laughter.
A happy place is more than pleasure and adventure,
It’s comfort, it’s safety, it’s home.
I can’t expect to fill a void with a hand, when I need to decipher
What to do with mine before ever expecting to hold another.
No home will ever be more lasting and stable than the skeleton
That keeps me together even when my mind tries to fall apart.
My bones may break or fracture, my heart may shatter
But my skin forever contains it all, and still,
They will be eternally mine.
I walk through a dream (or maybe they’re memories)
Only to find hidden bodies, bedraggled leftovers,
Severed heads with brains extracted, skins shed and discarded,
They all wear the same face that haunts my reflection.
the sun rises as soon as it sets, did time skip
or did the sky forget to turn blue?
sometimes leaves forget to crunch when they’re stepped on
and silence is as disturbing as a ceaseless sound,
there’s a pounding in my ear that’s both muffled and loud.
I wonder if the stars connect us as we connect them,
Piecing us together with strings of light
Like puzzles in a pocket book,
I’m only a dot, barely visible between blinks,
But maybe we were both visible between the same blink.
Maybe we both sparkled at the same time,
And you led to me or I led to you.
Maybe I was one or maybe I was two,
Or maybe we blundered our own way into each others view.
We often forget to watch when dust and grime accumulates,
Collects under our nails, forms a film over our skin,
Nests in the fibres of our carpet, settles on outsides and within.
It’s a slow assembly of a compilation of the messes
We abandoned instead of disentangling.
We listen to music through knotted headphones
And instead of taking time to unravel the wires,
We learn to live with the discomfort.
I watch them closely, the night people,
There’s not much else to see as the world is asleep.
They are remarkably awake for the non nocturnal,
Maybe they’re nocturnal at heart.
I watch them as they dance
And as they speak with such a tenderness
As if their words will be remembered…
And they will.
I feared in cutting my hair I would
Cut away my ability to twirl the locks
Around my finger and in turn
Be left with a loss of femininity.
But femininity isn’t found
In my wearing of a dress nor is it
Erased by boots and leather jackets.
It isn’t seen but expressed with a soft
Caress of his neck or a hand through his hair
And flushed cheeks in the sun.
Sweet smiles and a head held high.
Femininity is the delicacy of a flower
And the power of a diamond
That will never break and
It’s pretty because it sparkles
Not because it’s rare.