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[wrongsinrhyme]

the 99

I think I’m more of a 95

or a 93, just skating by

always an A, never the Accolades

smile and shut up and accept it with grace

because clearly, there’s an ugliness within me

so I keep it quiet and I keep myself busy

the louder they are, the better off I am

if I don’t have to face myself, maybe no one else can

But what do I do when it’s the quiet I crave?

It hurts to admit, but I want someone there

who will see straight to my bones and be gentle and care

and say they are worth more than just settling into the grave.

When I open my eyes and it’s only me and my mind,

I don’t have to choose to turn up the static and drown out my voice

because while she once let everyone else make that choice,

she’s learning she can be kind and unwavering, soft and unconfined.

And it feels better, to think of Her as separate from me

because then I treat her with a reverence reserved for close friends

and I love her, but she’s me, and I’m not quite there yet, not that free–

but she smiles, and says that it’s enough.

Maybe this is how it begins.

[wrongsinrhyme]

silence

today I saw the movie they’d announced back when you were head over heels for him

something about it made me want to make art,

something about you made me scared of my art

you made me feel constrained and I pretended it was freedom

maybe it hurt more because of you

maybe I hurt you because I hurt

in the film, he cared for the sick woman with the strength she couldn't muster for herself, for all her internal flame.

she was a little bit world-weary but she had that spark in her that made her wrap warmth around a stranger just as quickly as she'd wrap her arms around herself in the cold.

and for her, he would run through burning rooms and choke on thick air and emerge and touch her with no pretense and every kindness.

and she reminded him to breathe. and he reminded her to live.

I wonder if that spark in her eyes is something you'd recognize in your own; I suspect -- I know -- that it is. and it breaks my heart, to think that maybe I made your love turn bitter in your mouth when you were used to biting into bright sweetness.

if I made your eyes fall under shadow in your reflection, it will kill me to take all of that blame. but I will never know. I will only tense when I see his face and breathe out regret and pretend it's not my heart that's scraping against the dust and the pavement.

I don't know what the state of yours is, now. but mine is lighter, now.

I have to hold onto that.

[wrongsinrhyme]

🥺✌️

[wrongsinrhyme]

I stared at the mirror for a minute today. The tenderness I felt for her was indescribable.

I didn’t just see myself. I saw the generations of women who fought and lived through their hardships to create me, who had some say, some sway, in the flow of time, however small. But mostly, I saw a scared little girl. Me, eight or nine, twelve or thirteen, all the “me”s who have breathed out of spite or out of love or out of devotion to my place in the universe, even when I did not see it. Especially when I did not see it.

My own face often looks like a stranger. I study it without glasses, first thing in the morning, or in the glow of my lamp late at night. Sometimes I look with a gentle inquisitiveness, sometimes with harsher intentions, my imperfections blown up with a magnifying glass. I do not yet know what I have found; I do not know what the data I collect will lead me to conclude.

Isn’t it easier, now and again, to simply exist without scrutiny? Maybe one day I will find comfort in the quietness of existence. For now, I inhabit this space with the buzzing in my brain and I look without impartiality. 

[wrongsinrhyme]

string lights

I don’t know if I will ever hold someone Feel their heartbeat, steady, steady, My head buried into their chest. I do know that, if I do, I will begin to connect them, like string lights, To the air around them, To the cafes we visit, To the purples and pinks of the sunset On our walks around town, Never knowing where we’re going, Always ending up back home. Though I am far away, I see you everywhere Existing so quietly, echoing so loudly Hands folded, as if in prayer As if you wish to hold mine, too. My heart trusted you When my head thought it could not; Though my doubts ring out, The arrow points true, Always ending up back home, Always ending up with you.

[wrongsinrhyme]

I know what it’s like to disappear

and awake in a world I thought long gone

but look, I can touch it, I can walk on the dirt that’s not quite a hill and not quite a haven

remember when I fit through that doorway? remember when the only things unsteady were my unsure legs

and not the ground beneath me?

but look, I can sit and feel the plastic and the breeze and pass hidden faces I will never know

but that’s okay, because now I know mine

10.5.23