12.1.2016

Seams and plastic

Taught around my waist

Suffocating me

And it looks like bags under my eyes

And feels like floorboards on my cheek

Hot and cold all at once

There is not enough time in the day

Or clothing in my wardrobe

To hide satisfactorily

 

I am beautiful in the way broken glass is

Shards gleaming and sparkling in haphazard headlights

I am bruised and battered beneath the weight of my own fingertips

Like a peach, grasped by an ignorant child

 

I want to paint something beautiful but I do not want to be the canvas

Not tonight

Tonight I wish to be seen and loved as me, or not at all

Because I am running out of disguises

 

I remember entering the blackness on a dozen occasions

Without fear or hesitation

I am craving that escape

I long for the precipice of departure

But know this nausea will not take me there

3.2.2017

I wonder when it was that I began to retreat into myself

Folding, collapsing

Like oragami

 

To be more aesthetically pleasing

Palatable and unobtrusive

I molded myself to conform to the desires of my consumers

 

And then I decided not to

But ravaged gardens do not remerge overnight

Or even within the span of weeks, or months

 

Each blossom must learn of its safety

Must feel it is welcomed

Be allowed to reappear and then encouraged to flourish

 

Now

 

I am unfolding myself bit by bit

I am creased but not tattered

I am scared but alive

 

And I am relearning the meaning of ownership with every passing day