What’s in the way—
first thought of the day?

First thought of the day:

If I still knew how
to play pretend

first things first
I’d love my brain again.

“Have fun,”
they say.

Fun?

These days
I spend most days

running from
the very idea.

I don’t bother—
I don’t let “fun” bother me.

Instead,
it’s with peace

and ease
that I wish to
‘shoot the breeze.’

Everyday
I do my best—

I try.

Even when the only way
I know how
is

to cry.

No day is perfect
but what’s a day that’s as close to perfect as it can get?

It’s allowing it
to be okay

that my best looks different
depending on the day.

To trust that
to have it any other way

wouldn’t accomplish the same.

Because to live is
to survive
before it is to thrive.

Now what they don’t tell you
is thriving takes reviving.

And what remains
can’t be given a name—

until the day you can say
“I trust in you.”

And so I grew.

At las,
anew.

And new…
and new.

And I’ll continue to grow
let it show

bask in the afterglow

of the perfect day
on replay

with my someone else—
the one I never

gave up on
finding.

So when asked to describe
the perfect day

some might say
it’s bright.

When asked
I insist

they’re not quite right:

it’s blinding.

Perfectly Equal

Once upon a perfect day
All were equal in every way

Not color nor gender
Did prevent the render

Of kindness and care
Bestowed on everyone everywhere

In fact, all differences at hand
We celebrated in fashion most grand

And an impenetrable sphere
Protecting both straight and queer

And those dark skinned and light
Surrounded our earth, preventing a blight

Which threatened evil and strife
Upon this our most perfect life

For hate may have been the prequel
But equal would be the sequel

On this most perfect day
Conjured and imagined my way