When I was seven, I thought that I knew everything.
If you were to ask anyone who knows me, I'm probably much the same.
But the difference from now and then is, then I wasn't afraid to practice what I knew.
One Sunday morning, after a rambunctious sleepover with my best friend Karen. We woke to my mom making us breakfast. The smell of pancakes and bacon summoned us to the round table in our little apartment. Patiently waiting my mom rounded the corner, “I’m running to the store, don’t open the door for anyone.” At 7, the excitement that grappled my body at the opportunity overcame me. On the surface I was calm, internally I was bouncing around at all the possibilities of being home alone. The moment the door locked I was on a mission to find anything left askew to get into. But my mom, the early childhood educator was meticulous. Everything locked, I decided to venture into the kitchen, everything in its rightful place but a bowl with a frothy yellow mixture just sitting by the kitchen sink. Little black flakes floating around, my eyes lit up. “What is this?” my brain searched for answers to no end. “Karen! Come look.” Karen a few years older than me at 10 floated around the corner always interested in what I had to say. Questions in here eyes. “Watch.” Taking the palmolive detergent squirting the heaviest amount I could without it being noticeable. Karen watched. Worry in her eyes, but no words exiting. “Its just cleaning stuff.” I stated with the confidence of someone who does this for a living. The moment I'd swirled everything together, the lock began to turn, and as swiftly as we'd found it we departed. Into my room we escaped into the many worlds we’d created. And for the next 30 minutes life was bliss. “Ivory Lee, it's time to eat.” The melody of my moms voice hard but loving rounded the corner. Me and Karen ran into the living area plates steaming in our usual places. Always a meat before carbs kind of girl Karen started with the bacon. Her face lit with glee at the perfect crunch, the grease that engulfed her mouth and the seemingly endless piece of meat before her. On the other hand I dived into the eggs, fluffy, slightly burnt and when I finally allowed my brain to process what had happened… Soap. All I tasted was Soap. The panic took over me, my eyes wide I wanted to yell “THROW IT AWAY!” but the instant shame I felt overtook my body. I sat silent, watching Karen as she scooped a forkful of eggs into her mouth, chewed, sighed, and swallowed. Hmm? My brain tried it's best to process. Looking into the kitchen where my mom stood fixing herself a plate, she gave me a look as if to say “are you okay?” Not wanting to give myself away I turned back to my plate, finishing the soapy eggs, then the bacon, and finally the pancakes. Walking Karen home later that afternoon as we lived in the same complex I swore I saw a bubble escape my throat but I quietly left it to fate and never told a soul about that day. Except you my dearest reader, you now know one of my many shames.
January 19th
can I maximize my love for you without ever vocally saying I Love You.
words are words, actions are actions and I love you but I can’t say it anymore. I’ll show you everyday if you want me to but I’ll never know what it sounds like unless you allow me to. I love you, I love you, I really do.
classical music and common market.
Everyday that I wake
I must do what I say
but I consistently keep in mind
How exactly I would like to spend my time
There is truly no rhyme no reason
my actions are truly based on the season and whether the sun is shining brightly and if it rains I do not ponder on my pain but the beauty that surrounds me, the life that grows sublime and the infinite place this all holds in time.
when I close my eyes and open them no more I will know that I always did what I felt was right
I want to be a tree
not the Tim Pope song but an actual tree.
I’d preferably like to not be able to see.
Why? Because I want to be still
To not be transported and not feel like I have to constantly transport me.
Similar to the melody I’d like to sway and passively watch the day pass away.
To be rooted and understand what it means to be dead, alive, old, young, a sprout, a seed.
A threat to the humans who live under me but a life supply to the ones who bow down.
To be seen only by chance in a forest that’s never burned down but the most beautiful thing to ever be.
My manager saved my life.
What do you give someone who saved your life?
But would happily sit there and offer you 7.25.
What do you give someone who heard you almost suffocate?
But will blow your phone up if you’re 5 minutes late.
What do you give someone who understands you’re just a little fucked up?
And can’t help themselves but to still show you love.
High risk, high reward
but sometimes I risk more than I can afford.
teach myself discipline, cause im worth much more.
Have you seen my…
is it yet another lie?
I’d be lying if I said I was fine, And again if I said I enjoyed this life.
But something tells me I’ll be alright
A gust of wind on the nape of my neck
A pop of the shoulder providing a sigh of relief
Yes, I do think I’ll survive
Yes, I’ll live to see the light
Something to hum
Take another day
To find a way to not turn grey
But know you’ll still go one day
Take another week
To find a way to not appear meek
But you’re shy and think it’s not okay to cry
You’re hollow, are you a shell of this human?
Why don’t you try a smile?
You don’t like that, being asked what to do
And yet your lip upturns when you don’t lose
Yourself
untitled love vomit
I wrote you a love letter after I was blocked
A sonnet that ended in a whispered, “dot dot dot”
Serenaded you in a short walk to the car
Laid underneath you in a solo session in the dark
You continue each day in a world of your own
Led by a head that sparsely reaps what it’s sown
You sing to the voices who could hear, never to the ones who have heard
And it hurts
Forsaken
Oh mother why do you treat us the way you do?
You punish us all for the sins of those who never understood you.
Tell me what it is I can do, for I can no longer bear the wound
You are worshipped down to the very core but your mood towards your children has always been sore.
Oh mother please why do you treat us the way you do?
Try as I might I can’t stop loving you