would I?

This post is part of a series called 100 Days of Poetry.


If I could see this through your eyes would I notice the color changing on the leaves? Would I watch the sunrise with awe, turn to find the Robin after she called? Would I understand our slang and laugh at the right time? Could I see us through your eyes, brand new? And would I still want to give you everything, even after you knew?

grow taller

This post is part of a series called 100 Days of Poetry.


If I could exhale into my full skin, I would take up the entire room. I would fill it with so much love, so much comfort and joy. I would lower my shoulders, finally, laugh loudly and sit straight up. Learning that by letting things go, I can grow taller, yes. But also kinder. I can grow more tolerant and patient. When I stop holding my entire universe together with the tension I can create in my stomach – achingly on guard for all of this bullshit.

earmuffs

This post is part of a series called 100 Days of Poetry.


turns out I’m not that interested in what might be expected of me.

so much so that I will actually divert in other directions when you make known what you thought I meant.

because, honey, what I meant (and lean in for this) when I said ‘Fuck You’ was that I can see your fear in my ability to stare your anger in the face and let it wash over me, but not collect its message. You probably don’t even care about me, but, baby, turns out 

I do.