there is always more
of you to love

this month i learned to throw a punch
with painted nails from girls who loved
to yell and sing covered in blood
and huff and cry to feel enough
of who we are beneath these gloves
we sang “let it
go”
to card games and birthday cakes
to your forks and my plates
with « green light » in the background
the porch’s bulb, the dancing
sound, the alarm to cower
if you burn a witch

can i have this dance
called theatre, kids
too tipsy to know the rules
when the cards are dealt
on coffee spills
and yet cackles abound

hidden crunch bars in pockets
whipped cream on faces
drama we missed
drawn out banter
all a new good place
yoghurt, flavor of the year
only marks the clock’s ticks
i was never ready to get
on that plane when I lent you my polo
i spun in that chair like a ‘coaster
to stop the spilling of spirits
to guard this tender ticker

this place showed me
how to find more to love in

waffles and berries and potato soup
and essays that taught us to punch
holes in bags of delicate lies
reveal a world of shared desires
in the sunshine that rays from our lips
and the leisure with which we exist
together
expanding with
each forehead kiss, my third
carry-on premonitions
until our next collision

i am brave
every time i climb to the top of a tree
not because the branches could give out under me
but because i am finding the way that i grieve
in a place i feel safe enough to pursue peace

i am strong
every time i put my skates on
not because i could fall if my balance is off
it’s ’cause i could have stayed broken-hearted
but instead i’ve found silly little shoes to make art with

i am gorgeous
not because my hair’s shiny or my makeup looks good,
but because i’ve decided that i am my audience
no more looking for pointers on my face’s performance
i do what i love and i let what i choose restore us

i am precious
while the people i meet are inspired by my energy
it also matters that i know i deserve to be
without anyone else profitting of my self
no one getting that chance but me

i am loved
though the family i chose is a gift that i hold
in my heart, it’s the version of me who was thirteen years old
whose soul i behold
as i yell out the stories, the mantras, the truths that i wish was told
and i make her feel loved, hold her hand, whisper “honey, be bold”