Two Sets of Lips

I have two sets of lips
but sometimes it feels as if the set
between my legs speaks louder
Even though the one
below my nose
is the set that speaks.

My p*ssy lips are taken more seriously
even though you all consider them dirty
But when I say the word "pussy"
then my mouth is dirtier.

Yes - both sets allow me to feel,
but unfortunately only one can fight back
And it's not the one that should - arguably
But arguing is the exact problem, isn't it?

Look at my face and listen to me only
then go between my legs
Because the set of lips that allows me to taste
can only taste empowerment if it comes first.

as days go by

May the creases in your skin be carved by the tender fingers of laughter and the soft touch of smiles.
When your salty tears grace your plump cheeks,
           May their trails nourish your heart as the moisture easily settles into your pores.
May the only marks on your body be rooted in victory and adventure,
But even when they are rooted in fear and mistakes,
           I hope you can kiss them just as smoothly as you kiss your others.
As you carefully construct your home in your heart,
May you choose materials that are just as malleable as they are sturdy,
Because brick will keep you safe but seldom warm at night without a fire burning from the inside.
Line your walls with wool and make your bed with satin,
But always know that no matter who you lie with, that your fire is sparked by you.

confoos

There may be some songs that I can never get back
but I can rewrite them because sometimes
the keys beneath your fingers glide just as smooth
and the hum in the back of your throat simply croaks instead.

But walking away I notice that my bare feet feel better walking on the grass
than walking on the sidewalk and I also know that I don't know
many other people that like to walk barefoot at all
but I know why I love it and that is why I love myself.

Even though I don't know what color it is, I know that I glow
because when I walk I can see it in people's eyes
and the shift is so specific that realistically I could be delusional
but if I am, then why does everyone still want something from me?

senseless

I wish I could clear your pain as easily as
I wash away the sand on my feet after a day at the ocean

but lately it seems as if we are constantly swept by the waves,
tumbling through the saline and spray
but only gasping for bits of air
obtaining just enough oxygen to survive,
lungs filled with water
but never enough to make us numb.

but maybe
instead of a lifeboat that I am actually
the current
and you are helpless lost in the middle of sea
and I'm sorry I can't save you
I'm sorry

It is one of my most distinct childhood memories
that I only remembered yesterday after forgetting for a long time.

I remember the heartbreak and choking on air
hiding in my mother's arms and sobbing
from truly understanding the reality of pain on this planet.

living in my flower

I've been living in this flower
and it feels like home.
Gold dust sticks to the wrinkles on the bottom of my feet
but never tickles my nose enough to make me sneeze,
only enough to make me feel something.

Living here is beautiful and whenever I think differently
I am quick to be corrected because who wouldn't want this?
My walls are perfect petals, long and smooth with
perfectly spaced nourishing lines forming a path
leading me to the sky.

I lean into the walls and even though they don't move
they are still soft.
I quickly forget why I was leaning into them in the first place - a cycle.
Light leaks through lapping lines and long lengths of lace
I can't remember wanting to get out of here.

10 years

The word grief is too small
to embody the woes that flow
out of my fingernails as
my hands grab and dig
into my pillowcase while I scream
but I know you can't hear me.

I don't even know if you're there
and that's what hurts me
because what has kept me going
is knowing that you were still becoming
something
even though you left us.

That somewhere in Heaven or whatever it is,
you're bowling with your friends.
and I know you're probably cooking a lot
and I'm so sorry I can't be there to help
but I hope I get to eat with you again some day.
Holding hands to pray isn't as irritating now..

But what hurts is I think maybe
you would want to be here
which is why not knowing if you're still there
is so scary because
if you're gone and like, really gone...
what do I do?

Knowing you was knowing you forever.
Everything about you was perfect
and all of us needed you.
And I'm sorry if it didn't seem so at the time
because really I was still so young,
just always looking forward to what came next.