she told me to “let it out,”
“it’s okay to cry,” she adds.
all these years, i held it in.
all of it.
a great big ocean swam inside my eyes,
churned and spun in my stomach,
mixing with ugly truth and resentment.
so i let it out.
and it was ugly at first.
my sobs took over my body,
it was beautiful.
now i understand why a rainbow paints the sky after a dreadful storm.
a smile crept up on me and the pain floated a w a y.
it is my responsibility to teach
my parents what their parents
neglected to tell them or didn’t know themselves.
i hardly have a rhyme scheme
for my poetry
because i feel like it
pushes thoughts into superficial forms.
it may sound good to the reader,
but it’s no longer flesh from my bones.
it’s neatly put into a row or stacked into a pattern
but skeletons don’t put themselves together,
they fall into a random, scrambled, beautiful, mess.
i always walk swiftly passed your
i can’t stand to be evaluated by those
darting between my face and my body, something tells me you’re not interested in my intellect.
you never speak,
you just watch and then continue with whatever had your attention before i walked swiftly by.
i remember your face,
if you are not suffocating,
you are afloat only by the constant churning of your belly.
let me go.
don’t let me go all the way.
I promise it wasn’t in my head.
I saw him.
Even if it was just for a second
Before his frame was wiped away by fairy dust,
were before me.