I wasn’t raised to feel,
I was raised to think.
to fake perfection at the expense
of my self-worth,
Any signs of cracks
I don’t know how to navigate
a mess of a world that thrives
-my mother’s answer to problems is therapy
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you see the dance of my hand
I hope these words
float into your mind
and create the most
with the intracacies
of your thoughts
What does it look like to put a face to fear?
What if the face if your own?
and I will
-eyes, teeth, heart, soul, hands
A woman is the source of all life;
and you had the audacity to steal life
where are you in between today and ten years?
It’s not a mathematical equation;
50 percent here 50 percent there
80 percent now 20 percent tomorrow.
My yesterdays a collection of polished rocks I keep
locked away in a blue velvet pouch.
Magnifying glass broke from bending to see the future
when all it’s been inspecting is the past.
I was always supposed to be right there;
dancing on the tightropes of your insecurities and secrets.
You let down the bridge to your tall castle you built for years, keeping everyone out.
How is it in there?
Are you lonely? Is it cold?
All thoughts I ponder as you stare at me through the crack of purple window curtains;
like I’m a wild animal, a stray on the streets.
But I’m not a stray, I’m a person;
and I get scared just like you do.
But tell me why give someone a key if every other day you change the lock?
I have a love hate relationship with technology. On one hand, it brings us closer to those who don’t live in our neighborhood. On the other hand, we are never actually alone with ourselves. Our mind is constantly distracted by a screen and is never allowed the beautiful opportunity to just be.
This city is stale,
just like your promises.
And you can’t buy love
with love you don’t have to give.
Uncomfortable growth is my wool sweater
that’s three sizes too small.
All I want to do is just rip it off.