january

today I say goodbye
to those who didn’t care
and never will.
those whose voices jeer
and snarl
and mock
the way I live my life
as though I’m not living it
according to the rulebook
which everyone seems to have a copy of
but me.

today I say goodbye
to the ones who do not like me
for reasons quite unknown.
because I’m a pretty cool person,
or so my stuffed animals tell me.
and what use is it
to try and live my life to please someone
who doesn’t like who I am
at my very deepest of cores
when there are people
who look at me
and tilt their heads
and smile
and think
“wow. she’s a weird one.
I like that.”

and why would I ever
listen to the voices in my ears
that tell me I’m too old to play pretend
too old for imaginary games
too old to love the things I love
when I can close my eyes
and count to ten
and pretend they no longer exist?

I think I lost
the girl that I was
in the hope that I could become something more.
because there’s an expectance for where I am,
this unspoken rule
that you have to be this
and you have to love that
or you’re doing something wrong
and living your life incorrectly.

well, I don’t like this
and I don’t love that
and I’m never going to be the person they want me to be.
because that girl is angry
and sad
and small.
and I’m a little bit different
and a little bit loud
and a little bit more
than I thought I was yesterday.
and if that’s not what they want–
if they’d rather have cookie cutters
and half-hearted smiles–
then I think I’ll just take
my pocketful of glitter
and find somewhere else
to call my for now.

featured photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

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twenty-one

Twenty-one is such a funny age, isn’t it?
It’s poetry and ink-stained fingers
Hopeful eyes and broken dreams.
And yet
Scattered throughout the pages of this chapter
There is a wish
A dream
A captured breath
That says maybe, just maybe
What I’ve wanted all along will come to be.

I’m older and wiser than I was at seventeen.
Stronger and fiercer than ever.
My dreams are clutched tight in both hands
And this time I refuse to let them slip through like water.
This time I will release them into the air
One by one
Watch them sprout wings and fly
Flutter through the wind like dragonflies.
And maybe
Just maybe
They will come back to me
Land on my fingers and tell me stories of faraway lands
And long-lost hopes now forgotten.
They will tell me to wish upon a burning star
And continue to dream the most dangerous dreams.

Because the only dreams worth chasing
Are the ones with the potential to break you.

Rapunzel, Rapunzel // a poem

good morning, cyberspace!

Just two days ago I emerged from my completely unexpected February half-hiatus with a brief recap of all things February Freeze Out. And I’d been debating whether or not I should post that smudge on Sunday, seeing as though Tuesday was only a couple days out, but in my excitement to finally be posting again, I refused to listen to the logic of long-term and posted it immediately.

Which left me with virtually nothing to post today.

However, luckily for me, I had another poem lodge itself into my brain last weekend and demand I write it, which means i don’t have to expend any time or energy into writing a really complicated blog post I get to share another fun little piece of randomness with you all!

“It’s flat!” you say. // A Poem

good morning, cyberspace!

Apparently the moment you tell the world that poetry just “isn’t your thing” is the moment a poem decides to stick itself into your noggin in the middle of the night whilst you’re trying to sleep.

#funtimes

Not Today.

Good Morning, Cyberspace!

Now, I am perfectly aware that it has literally been foreeeevvveeerrrr since I’ve actually posted a somewhat normal post around here (a.k,a LISTS and WRITERLY THINGS and also probably more LISTS), but I’m sure we can all agree that NaNoWriMo is somewhat of an attention hogger, which means that between all of the NaNoWriMo Dare Squad posts and the actually trying to conquer the NaNo stuff going on last month, pretty much all of my ‘writerly blog post ideas’ are dead and buried six feet under a blueberry patch mulled over by a puddle of cement.

In other words — they do not exist.

The Song of Stars: A Poem by Me

Good evening, Cyberspace!

Today I’m going to be doing something that I’ve talked about doing quite a while now, but haven’t gotten around to actually executing.

I am going to share a poem that I wrote with you.

Now, I know I mentioned opening up a Poet’s Corner a while ago (because, seriously, how cool does that name sound???), but after being honest with myself, I really haven’t written enough poems in my life to consider myself that big of a poet. In fact, the total number of poem’s under my belt is a grand tally of four.

Four poems. And one of them is about a cold virus.