Month: January 2022

Crush

What a magical thing that life ruffles our routines, shakes our cynicism,

by turning ordinary bodies into lanterns!

What is just flesh to one person is a festival of lights to another.
And my ego can’t explain how a name, a voice, a body

turns my nervous system into a hot stovetop.

my insides are an oven in their direction.

Its humbling,

embarrassing,

and euphoric.

That effervescent curiosity alone has turned a lot of my grey days golden in its glow.

Crushes are the worst kept secrets,

Tells spill out in blushing,

giggling,

Brain rounding into a hamster wheel of overthinking.

This frustrating magic,

this lovely surprise

reminding my whole being that any person can turn into a magic spell.

Re-introduction

I am something astounding and embattled,

Someone impassioned, volatile, gooey, and beloved.

My being is a brazen and polarizing force struggling to live inside one human body and who sometimes struggles for other humans to face the bonfire I am.

I wonder if Im a celestial experiment,

One where a few ingredients overpower the intention.

after all, I am acquired taste.

Even if the whole world spits me out,

Id still choose to be this.

Even if there were a choice, I am my own every time.

1.2.22

The clock struck midnight,

and the silent hurts I’d carried across all of 2022’s ancestors shook from my back.

The hurt was an armor— something between and ghosts of wrongs past.

My bruised and heavy heart quakes behind it all. Sometimes, the wound has to breath to heal.

The clock hit midnight, and we met a new year.

Resentment and righteousness decided that they didn’t need to join 2022. They left my body, and Im grieving and celebrating their absence.

New year, new canyon between my lungs open for something less heavy.

12.31.21

Its the end of a year that did to me what mallets do to slabs of steak.

365 days/ count them in bruises on my body and spirit. The annual mallet beat me until I was tender.

I’m so soft from trauma and feeling and reeling on the brink of 2021’s epilogue.
i meet this new year willing to let someone deserving peak into all my heart’s hiding places. Its not an open invitation. Rather, a willingness, an option reserved when I see enough green flags as they sail in my direction.

Pain is my birthplace, what I thought was my birthright. When given the option for a lover to hurt me, I chose solitude. Alone was a fortress until it became a prison. Only then did I understand how pain seizes all of us, but some of it isn’t as lonely. some pain bears fruit nourishing our lives long after their nightstand is empty.

I stumble into 2022 blindfolded and bruised. I come with every worst woman I’ve been in 300 days because she brought me here. I’d pick being my worst me over being anyone else. Just like I gamble with romance knowing that it might hurt me. The heart decays inside preservatives. It’s meant to be shared. It’s meant to be seen bruised, bloody—proof that its brave.

This is where I leave the mallet but not my bruises. This is how I meet a whole year Ive never met before. This is me tempting fate by daring to hope, to bandage, and say that my heart is a swing door that opens easily for those who understand its inner workings. Do with it what you will, 2022.