Sisterhood

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There is a joy of sisters

who know both the Sun and the Moon of our soul

and the constellations of our mind

Who breathe the light that radiates from our eyes

and grieve with us the death of a smile

Who know the beauty of a teardrop

falling gently on a naked shoulder

The salty sting to bind them in

an embrace only felt by sculptures

 moulded side by side

Summertime

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There’s an invisible barrier

separating my skin from the warm caress of this Thursday afternoon

A shield to guard the realm of my infinite body

the one inside that sometimes sneaks out to play under the summertime sun

One that kisses the molecules of water

rising unbeknownst to most men

I shyly embrace the flowers between my toes

as  though they had snuck here in a sinister manner

like the neighbour boy

through a window

trying not to be seen

My feet and hands walk the wooden stairs to my manicured garden

turning away from the freshly trimmed grass to admire the weeds

and watch I will

the wavering clouds that say goodbye with such delight

They will not rain down today

and wash away this infinite girl who glides through the day

as one glides on ice

 

Neighbourly

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There is this human predicament

that grows in a place

we believe our hearts to live

It’s that sudden impulse

to turn away

when the fear of lingering eyes

and another human’s thoughts

force us to retreat

as though we are so sure of defeat

in this war of concern

~

The myth of standing out and being seen

There’s a cat that cries but you do not comfort

because you never paid the money for it

It’s the myth of money in exchange for ownership

and so I let it cry

~

Once again I retreat inside

to the comfort of a couch

paid for with my very own fantasy

The ultimate lie, I think

is that we step on stones

afraid to move one from its place

Multi-coloured minerals made into a multitude of shapes

admired for the difference

and yet I shudder as my feet kick them

from that comfortable place called “next door neighbour’s home”

just as I shudder to pat the cat

following me down the road

White Chocolate

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I crave the delicacy of white chocolate

the sweet hot delight to warm my cold disposition

The embrace of its arm around my throat

not to choke

but to caress me from my waking state

into a dream with thick buttery rivers

and days sunken into the grass

soaking under the Sun

watching this chocolate world melt around me

into new forms

new places to explore

new, beautiful things to make me cry

 

 

Trees

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I am the wild wind

in a world where trees sprout out of the ground

just to breathe me in

Ten kilometres in the air

they will grow

and they will fall

with the ebbing and flowing

of these lungs beneath my chest

~

This world of trees was made for me

and when the mountains rise up

to impede my way

I will bounce off the various surfaces

sometimes smooth

sometimes rough

~

But every time

I will find my way through the cracks

the crevices

and I will find myself on the other side of that mountain

greeting these trees

that sprouted just for me

Princess

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My butterfly blue dress

turns me into a princess

in a world where it’s better to be the bad girl

Where black eyes and a foul grin

deserve attention

receive admiration

The mysterious tempting woman with a dark side

A vision of struggle

how clearly you have suffered

~

Well

I have many sides

both the Sun and Moon have seen

I have scars

I’m a complicated scribble

made with the precision of a first graders hand

My feet have callouses

from years of walking through

the rocks of expectation you laid before my feet

~

So today I will wear a butterfly blue dress

and plump pink lip gloss

My hair will be pulled back to reveal

eyes that have escaped the thick shadow

And I’ll feel like a princess

with today’s promise bowing before my feet

Walls

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I lived in London a couple years ago. I decided to move there on my own because I was a shy 23 year old who had just finished her teaching degree. I looked back on my four years of study and realized that I had wasted so much time waiting around for my life to start.

I had literally spent four years waiting for life to find me while I watched TV and ate pasta. I had come so far in life it would seem. From a young optimistic four year old making pasta necklaces, to a 23 year old woman eating pasta so often it decided to hang around (namely on her gut and thighs).

So anyway, I did the only thing I thought I could do to actively change my life. I ran away.

For everyone who cared about me, I called it an adventure, my chance to see the world. However, in reality, I was just so fucking done with my life. I needed a break from it.

I recall one particular lonely London day. I was sitting on my bed marking assessments. I was listening to Hozier on repeat because I had chosen his latest album to be my woeful theme music.

The room was so big, too big. There were too many empty spaces surrounding me. I hated it. I could feel the entire vacant space swirl around as I continued to scratch red lines onto paper I could barely read (seriously, kids, it is not that hard to separate your letters).

The walls had been covered with ugly off-white wallpaper that was peeling in places. I could see yellow stains here and there and I wondered what disgusting find I may stumble upon if I was to peel back the wallpaper completely.

I feel like people pride themselves on having so much space. It is as if you are suddenly important because you have purchased the emptiness between the distances of stuff.

In the end, it does not matter how much distance you purchase, for I had realized on that lonely London day that I would much rather be closer to things.