Spray tan and peach blush, all I did was try
to stand firm when I believed in everything
to fake though I knew hardly anything
they left me behind reading old magazines
fixing my bra strap under my gym shirt
I had more safety than a maxi pad in winter
nobody would question my belief
it was just old photographs, they only spoke
the truth to me, pointed out my skin’s
red badges of courage, and it took so long
to snap into place, but I got one small thing right:
peach blush is my shade
Tag: poem
Day 173 – Home
I know what I sound like
gushing over my city, my Gondor,
but you gotta see it, man.
I didn’t build anything,
I just drank it,
and five years passed
which should have been one.
My fathers didn’t die
in these hills, nobody
who built it ever dreamed
of me-
but I got so lost exploring
what strangers have made
that one day I was home.
Day 172 – Cleaning Day
On cleaning day I have time alone to
run through all the scenarios in my head
but it comes back to Whitman-
at once we contain multitudes and
nothing is ever really lost–
there is no more gained from cleaning day
than a thoroughly cleaned house.
Day 171 – White Noise
Sunday mornings I drift in and out
to the sound of you clicking away
your fingers make raindrops
writing in a language I don’t speak
finally something I can’t read
don’t explain it to me, though you would
I love the white noise of your mind
Day 169 – Come See
I’m not really sure what’s to miss
come see
how all that time wasted was waiting for this
come see
how I grew, what I did, what I made
come see
the cards that I played
and how I doubled my numbers
and stepped up my game
come see
everything I became
Day 168 – The Greats
I cannot read the greats in coffee shops-
Emily, Sylvia, Maya-
they have to wheel me out,
ask me to stop screaming.
I fear no other women
but those who can write
and I should be paralyzed by daily life
if I ever did my job of receiving right.
I live by removing phobias
and stagnate safely on until
trying no longer kills the blinking urge
and when I must I do it quietly
and never in public.
Day 166 – Unpublishables
i never believed in holding back
until all this started pouring out
if you can’t say nothin’ nice
well then baby, what’s the point?
god gave me a killer instinct
i know my way to a throat in the dark
it’s a gift i refuse but it feels so good
when i get the chance to use
Day 165 – Kindness
They say kindness is the best beauty regimen
I guess it’s working out for me now
but I didn’t give up my fire to be wanted and clean
I scratched up my face to figure out how
it was never my fault I was haunted and mean
and the dogs smell my fresh bruises
and they come back to lick my old wounds
and the things I’ve learned, I keep to myself
but I can lie so dangerously now
Day 164 – Glass Houses
We’ve always lived in glass houses
and our words were always little grenades
the moment any real truth slid under my door
I’d call it shots fired and start loading my gun
but I fear no words anymore
The silence is louder in one room now
when everywhere else in my house is full
there are no more stones you can throw
that I couldn’t take, that I wouldn’t welcome
you’re already in my bones
and I’m not broken
Day 163 -Hotel Rooms
First night alone for too many years
second story in a hotel room, I watch the
rain come down on this city, I think of
hot summers and cold goodbyes
All the history I ran away from
all the hurt I still can’t face, I see the
images painted on hotel walls, I hear the
old songs, I know all the words
But I’ll be on a plane tomorrow,
heading back to the safety I built, I won’t
forget what I locked in hotel rooms, but I’ll
never take it back with me
