They say that there are only 2 kinds of people who are awake in the morning, the lonely and the loved. I don’t know which one I am, but during these hours between sleep and waking, that’s when I feel the surge of life. Writing, for me, is translating some lost sensation into a place you can return to, a dream you’re trying to touch. So as the edge of dawn approaches, it creeps upon me. This fire, this hope. So I hope, and I hope. And I hold onto this hope in my heart like a lifeboat, and I write.
You point out the curve of your stomach
and the ripple of your thighs, as if
these are flaws you need to hide,
when you look in the mirror
and see not good enough, please
remember that I see strong
hands, stronger willpower,
resilient heart, easy laughter,
kind eyes, fast wit. You are
delicate and wild, insane and
unpredictable. Accept your
complexity and depth and don’t
apologize for it. You are every
inch of the reason I count myself
so damn lucky to be a woman.
My first time doing #spokenword 🙂
The one with bad timing, the unavailable one, the inaccessible one, the one with baggage, the one who is all wrong for them. The one they think they see everywhere, the one they wonder about, the one they find themselves thinking about even when they wish they wouldn’t, even though they know they shouldn’t. Everyone has that one who has moved on, whom they tell themselves they’ve moved on from, and yet still makes their hearts skip and their stomachs flip and their fingers type flowery words into phones at ungodly hours.