choices

our teeth
have been taught
to keep the words in
because it's better to blend in
than to fight for a losing team.
ask me how many kids
i’d like to breed,
i’ll look the other way
and say i’m okay.
i guess
i should confess,
it makes me depressed.
they say being feminine means being xx
and wearing a dress.
maybe if only i could
change the way i look,
all these people would
stop picking at my wounds.
i’m not sorry i don’t conform
to society's norms,
but i really don’t like the way
my shirts were made
to be buttoned by someone else.
i know you wish
i wouldn’t be this-
believe me, i do too,
but i never go to choose.

i know

your vows were
double-edged swords.
you swore you'd 
the first time your hand
grazed my spine
was so sweet
i can’t believe
you’ve turned into this.
“i love you”
feels like me choking.
“i won’t do it again”
looks like pain.
“i’m sorry”
are words too pure
to be cruel.
the thought of leaving
has me shaking,
but staying

means further hurting.

i blame you

for thinking i could

stay and clean your wounds.

i’m sorry but i need

to take care of me

before i think of you.

it takes time to heal-

i know maybe once I have,

too much time will have passed,

and it might be already too late

to forgive myself once again

for being weak and letting you win.

i know these lingering lies

keep making us tie

in this game

we shouldn't play.

i know how hard it is to let go.

i know how hard it is.

i know.

flaws

when i was fifteen i was told i wasn’t pretty,
and that my thoughts ran too deeply.
when i was sixteen i realized i wasn’t white,
for someone had pointed it out.
when i was seventeen i was called easy,
but i only wanted to feel pretty.
when i was twenty I was called a prude,
just because i didn’t send nudes.
somewhere along the way i messed up,
and started thinking that being loved
was a synonym for being perfect.
i’m always too much or too little,
too fat or too flat,
too big or too small.
my thighs take up too much space,
my brain is too fast,
my heart beats
one too many times,
and my feet like to wander too long.
i thought i was lost,
and the only way to be found
was to give in to what others wanted.
somewhere along the way i became comfortable
in the knowledge that i was their sometimes,
because i’d rather be something,
than nothing at all.
i wonder how many years it’ll take
until i feel safe
living under this skin
and being truly me.
i don’t fit in that dress,
but do not distress.
i carry the burden of my weight
inside this chest,
i’m sorry, 
i can’t hear your concern-
my crooked smile,
my thunder thighs,
my dark eyes.
i’m not crazy.
i’m worth more
than my number of flaws.
i’m excited because this freak of nature
survived against all odds.
not even your words
will temper this soul.
i wish it hadn’t taken me so long
to learn how to love me, before
letting anyone else drown my voice.