eve eve eve, with no need to apologize

i don't have normal words.

i have acrostic poems and sketches and ribbons of choruses dancing the gray-sky winds.

i have 1,000 homes and healing hips.

i have my mind and the chance for existentialism or grins.

i have the gift of what's come from giving up on where i'm from. trying less to impress. trying true to breathe through the anxiety of not needing to be somebody.

i have coffee, black and bitter.

i have books, better and better.

i have chest-swollen-thanks under my sweater.

i have moon-bright-trust tucked under cover.

i have a chastity belt around my bruised bottom and a sense of safety even though i'm broken.

i have thank you's overdue and your welcome's i haven't felt through.

i have more spirals than i can count.

i have sacred memories i won't write about.

i have mirrors and mirrors and mirrors of love.

i have the wild above and the thick tangled below.

the center throws of now all dancing around my body like flames of infinity i don't need to control.

find me in awe, down on my knees, praying please please please:

shout yes across the ether, and yes into my weathered heart.

yes to the ache in me that pleads to break free from humanity.

find me whispering: this, this, this is it.

stay. it's all okay.

tenderness. cracks. new growth. laughs.

a strange freedom from longing.

a weird sense of belonging

to myself.

small child, still wild, ever-allowed to make messy mistakes and infinite retakes.

all for the sake of feeling at home in myself.

i hold the wealth.

there's nowhere to go.

stay. there's a way to be strong and simple here.

there's a way to clear the need to be anything but free.

fall.
fall.
fall.

love calls me to my natural height.

tall.
small.
tall.
small.
tall.