self care isnt always lush bath bombs and $20 face masks. sometimes, it’s going to bed at 8pm or letting go of a bad friend. its forgiving yourself for not meeting your impossible standards and understanding you are worth it, nonetheless. self care isnt always luxury, but a mean for survival.
My mother didn’t understand my fear
of our new president until I put it in terms
she could understand much clearer.
Before, it was “he’s just the president,
he doesn’t have all the power,”
But then I told her, mom,
he reminds me of my father.
Sitting at that dinner table, she made
her boyfriend stop talking over my concern,
with shocked tears in her own eyes
she said, “stop. You don’t know my ex husband,
if this stupid man makes her feel like that,
we’ve gotta believe her.”
I will not walk the four walls of my room
waiting for death or blissful sudden silence,
like I did each night when I was a teenager.
I’ll be the version of me that sometimes
found the strength to descend the staircase,
to stand between my mother and a monster.
Only my mother is now the nation, is nature,
and you better believe I will protect her.
Rain
on the
tin roof
calms
the soul,
uplifts
the spirit,
smells
of home.
Droppings
And all the
wee naked
beasties
of the field
gather around
graveyards
amazed
by the fuss.
i’m doing fine
i’ve been exchanging
love letters with the sky
and finding comfort
she and i share
the same kind of eyes
somedays they’re more
blue than others
somedays they look
so grey that it’s hard
for us to see in color
and that’s okay
because we both have
our rainy days, sometimes
thunderstorms or hurricanes
but we always recover
the sky finds comfort
in the way she’s portrayed
when my pen moves
the way a ballpoint
and a blank page
can set the stage for
romance in a ballroom
she’s been teaching me to dance
seeing the sun
after it sets
is a curious sight
it’s finished it’s run
and passed the horizon
but it still shines bright
as the infinite black
pollutes the fiery sky
the sun turns to white,
like a halo, almost,
so just for a moment,
you can see how
the moon reflects it.
When it’s evening in the south
a rich haze floats down over
everything, a deep blue we
don’t have back home.
Neon storefront lights are up,
and headlights start to flicker on.
I feel for the drivers who leave them off,
stubbornly fighting night, just
a few moments away.
Maybe, like them, beginnings make me nervous.
I prefer closure to starting over.
I can’t describe the color of the dark blue
sky as winter begins to think
of spring. But the feeling -
the finality - I watched the blue go from
baby to sea to midnight -
and I knew, at peace, a chapter has closed.
Some days
it is difficult,
to capture
yourself-
To watch.
To be calm.
To forget
knife
wounds,
and scar
tissue.
We have
always
been whole,
just not
in the ways
we want.
satan-in-a-box
cupcakes-anime
Good joke trope: Beginning a sentence in a harmless fashion, then turning it aggressive and weirdly specific and directed at a generic name because it’s fucking funny, Susan.
