Babes, mom. I gotta look cool.
hello to those who sit in the dark/ those who blink up at the ceiling/ those who fumble next to them/ those searching for all that the dark is concealing
you’re there now and i’m there later/ i’m there before and you’re floating around/ we dance and we stumble/ and embrace the night that surrounds
i’ve always known where i stood/ i’ve always just lived and just been/ but who am i now?/ who am i now with all of this sin
i could speak in hymnals and betrayals/ i could write with grace and reverence/ i destroy all my bibles and all of my words/ to rid myself of this religious evidence
i used to sit in the pews each sunday/ i used to pray even through my doubt/ but no one is answering/ my prayers alone feed into this drought
i asked for you and you never knew/ i asked for a friend but did i receive?/ i go back each week just to kneel/ i close my eyes and wish to believe
i am the persona of damnation/ and yet i look for a guardian angel/ is that who you are to me now?/ will you be my salvation?
who am i now to you/ in all of the pillars of hell?/ do i reside there for you/ or am i up where the clouds swell?
dear god i wish now/ why am i here and where are you/ dear god i used to believe/ but i grew up like you told me to
the feeling of being happy is./ music is my process of thinking/ lectures are a tool for daydreams/ drowning is not the same as sinking
i love the concept of reading a book/ a story unlike my own is entirely mine/ anybody can read the same story/ but it’s only the characters and you in those lines
i read and i write and only read and write/ the perspectives that leave me enthralled/ the dynamics keep me up for hours/ the ideas the authors have installed
the ideas that create my own story/ i type and i write and i scribble them down/ i’ve made stories and letters and poems and essays/ meaning more than just their verbs and nouns
i’m no better than a painter with crayola/ my works are no worse than those of the greats/ i take on my work with a humbled ego/ the contradictory is a content weight
we were in tenth grade sitting together at lunch/ we were in eleventh grade skyping until morning/ we were in twelfth grade tossing up our caps together/ now i wake up each day to you snoring
we grew up and we grew old but we grew together/ we both go off to ours jobs before the sun/ we drive across the world your hand on the wheel/ my hand on your leg as the music drums
we toss and we turn and we wind down our path/ ours are intertwined as we weave/ my yarn loops through yours but it never knots/ in and out, together we knit our dreams
two queens sleep side by side/ one is orange, one is black/ sound asleep curled in together/ purring on as their dreams stack
angels hum from near their whiskers/ the softest fur sweetly entangled/ warmth emanates from their fur/ their tails laid out and tangled
they sleep until the sun has faded/ until the candle has burned low/ they stretch and they yawn/ as they wake under the moon’s glow
Who is allowed to paint the sky? Who determined its banners of blue? Who will stop me from splashing in red? To give it a hopeful purple hue.
I hate the blues of the world. The somberness spoils the sun. It hardens the clouds into lumps. Is purple not stardust spun?
Who chose the lights of the morning? Who chased the night into dark? Is day not a shadow of reality? Night is where every dream sparks.
I’ve repainted the sky a violet haze. the reds and blues race to the horizon. They swirl and spin and strum. Ribbons to wrap the world in.
i write to you to share my thoughts/ i write to you to weaken us/ i write to you to bring us alive/ i write to you make it all just
i never thought the wind would carry me/ yet it took me all the way to you/ and now i can’t stop drifting by/ past it all and into the blue
i write and i write and you just don’t understand/ i need to tell you everything i feel/ i yearn to hear your reply/ it’s only your thoughts i want to steal
i built a book for you and i/ but i’ve started to tear out the pages/ i’ve sent you the words to chapter one/ but i’ve been writing it for ages
would you like to read this novel?/ hearing it from this author’s voice?/ or would you burn it as i did yours?/ just this once i’ll give you the choice
letter by letter i’ll send our story/ forewarning, my narrative is not yours/ i see, think, and believe differently/ with this i promise us no cure
i’ve never known fall to be mine/ fall is a blur of hot wind and candle wax/ it’s textbook paper cuts and the courtyards to class/ fall is a copper figure with crispy syntax
fall has always been a trick to me/ i layer up just to feel the sweltering sun/ it’s a melting pot of flannels and sweat/ from green to red but the paint still runs
fall is a lie we all live to love/ we cherish every autumn equinox to come/ pumpkin patches and pies just for them to rot/ as we wait for the depression to make us numb
i am a woman of distinction/ we are all women of distinction/ we are thoughts, feelings, and opinions/ we are the upholders of future generations
you don’t need to fit a criteria/ your occupation does not matter/ gender roles are all a social construct/ all you need to be is a ladder
a ladder to hold up young girls/ let them know they have a place/ plant seeds of knowledge within/ water them to set the pace
we are all women of distinction/ no two of us are the same/ we rise, we fall everyday/ yet we all still bear a name
the power to live in that name/ or to change it, as you do too/ it does not matter to me/ as long as you claim it as you
i am a woman and i am distinct/ I don’t let the world wash me out/ i have not always been such an anchor/ you too can overcome the drought
i love you in the mornings/ and i love you in the nights/ i love you in between the sheets/ and i love you standing in the lights
you’re full of soft lines and hard edges/ the curls at the nape of your neck/ the broadness of your shoulders/ all enough to make me a wreck
You’re the only muse to me/ enough to inspire a lifetime/ together we learn to live and to love/ do you promise to be forever mine?
