Accidental Confidence

In the morning,
I start with my eyes,
Creating them like artwork,

I have accidental confidence,
I have gotten real good,
At creating a mirage,

I apply the primer,
You need a clean slate,
To begin any change,

You know the advice,
Show the world what you want them to see,
They will see it,

I move from the outside in,
Making it bold but natural,
Don’t want to look like you’re trying too hard,

Well, I got real good,
At making myself,
Appear to be someone else.

Picking a color is important,
You want your eye color to pop,
So they can see the twinkle in your eye,

The first time I was told I was confident
I wanted them to elaborate on their view,
Give me a glimpse of my persona,

When you get to the inside,
Apply a nice shimmery color,
That’s where the shadows naturally fall,

I have a pretty face,
A name that is easily remembered,
I have a naturally kind soul,

Blend into your brow bone,
Make sure it doesn’t look like clip art,
They should look like they want to belong,

I turned into an iceberg,
My eyes above water,
Below the water line, deceiving.

Mascara finishes the look,
Those lashes are the curtains,
To the show behind it all,

I have learned to hypnotize,
The colors, the shimmers,
All do their jobs,

I should be pleased,
That you don’t see
My ununiformed to society body,

You insisted that I ride the rollercoaster,
I faked motion sickness,
You accepted that.

Accidental confidence is a product
Of learning how to decipher the code
To be accepted among the masses.

When you pull me into a trendy store,
I don’t have money; I have too much in my closet,
I’m too lazy to try on clothes today,

So when I bat my eye lashes,
I wait for the day when you
Don’t just stop at the gate.

I need you to stroll the grounds,
The curves and hidden pathways,
From the rose garden to the dark forest,

I love that you don’t need to see more to love me,
But I need you to see more of me to love me.

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Recipe for Brains

You decimate my impulse control
with a glance in my direction,
causing me not to feel a swoon,
but the need to punch you in the face.

I’m not a violent person,
my blood pressure elevates
until it pushes all common sense
out of my finger tips.

I’m no longer human,
just a vessel filled to the brim
with memories and emotions
of everytime you wronged me.

I hate what I become.
A zombie with red eyes
my only goal in afterlife
is to bash your brains.

I swear this is not me,
just a horrible recipe.
I added faith and kindness,
I expected human decency,

What I got was society,
brown and bubbling
it’s fragrance toxic to the mind.
You are their best accomplishment.

They praise you for being
decisive and independent.
You do not run by people’s expectations,
what a revolutionary.

I am too innocent, they say,
Rose-colored glasses on my nose,
I am foolish
to expect the golden rule.

I am just a second chance,
no worries, extra-mile,
works late on fridays,
smiles at strangers girl.

So, I’ll just pull my sunglasses down,
my eyes turn into sunsets,
fueled by the fire behind them,
to prove you wrong.

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Perception

A laugh and a smile

“Why did you keep this?” I asked

I was looking over the drawing,
Amused at the colors and hard press lines
I still haven’t learned that a little can go a long ways,
Our triangular pink dresses and our big box blue shoes,
Both me and mom,
Oh the style I thought we had,
And there, my brother,
Shirt and shorts, identical red
And big black belt in between.

She looked at me with soft eyes.
“Eventually he disappeared from the drawings”

A double take,
Widened my search,
Hiding in the corner,
Above the square house with a perfect triangular roof,
Bright green stick figure with spiked purple hair,
A set of brown wings coming off your thin torso,
Smiling in all your glory.

Years hang between me and the paper,
An invisible timeline from then to now,
Oh the innocence of words,
D-A-D-D-Y
Written in tiny rainbow letters.

I have learned about life with out you,
I wish I decorated you with style
But I guess you don’t need clothes up there.

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Do You Know Where You Live?

I know where you live.
Over between confident and insecure.
Your house takes up the entire block.
Monday to Thursday,
You live in the right wing,
Relishing time to yourself,
Until alone becomes lonely,

But on Friday,
You do a cartwheel to the left wing,
Where you are a superhero,
An angel by day, fighting crime by night,
You could conquer the world.

You say hello to a stranger,
Allow someone to invade your personal space
by sipping coffee at a table next to yours,
You make a joke with the barista,
Watch the sunset through your iphone lens,
Have drinks at a crowded bar with your friends,
Lead your group to the corner booth, you on the inside.

By Sunday night, You are crawling back to your hollow abode,
energy depleted, proud of your accomplishments in the world,
You went all out, had real experiences.

By the next morning,
you are back being unassured,
wondering if the barista laughs at everyones jokes,
Was the sun really those bright colors, or was it just a filter?
Would that guy you had been eyeing,
the one with the blue eyes and smile so wide,
have approached if your heart hadn’t gone silent?

You have pride in being a strong, independent woman,
but are you strong
if you can’t control your thoughts,
if your actions are based on the weather?
Are you independent, or just alone?

I have to tell you,
it is strong to know what you can handle,
to work with where you are,
it is an accomplishment to understand recovery,
You…I am a strong, independent woman,
who knows where I live.

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Trauma

Wind waves pass,
Saying hello,
The house stays still,
Not wanting to play,
Ignoring the breath,
Staining the window.

Only the sound of time,
Remnants of moments,
That were once inviting,
Now covered in layers,
of distance and neglect.

A shell
Of a life once lived,
Etched with meaning,
Within its organs.

Trees are ever changing,
Waiting for a jolt,
From a storm or
An awaiting rainbow,
To bring a pulse,
Back into it’s walls,

And the wind,
Will come dancing through
As an old friend.

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Follow the Signs

The sliding glass door opens.
They stop a few steps in the door.
Their eyes adjusting to the busy atmosphere.
I try to guess who is who,
They look so small, so innocent.
So many people moving in all directions,
Voices loud and unnerving,
Everyone with a purpose, a destination,
Ordered Chaos, I call it.
They begin gesturing towards maps and signs,
Looking for clarity,
This is a place of questioning,
Clouds of whys travel behind smiles of frequent flyers.
For every sun that can break through,
it helps ignore the cold that hangs at our feet.
They won’t remember my face,
Theirs will be etched in my mind,
I know what they will eventually need,
No surprise when they end up at my desk with bashful eyes,
Oh, how I hope they are that bright when they return,
I want to gather them in my arms,
but I have to tell them,
as carefree as possible,
as if it won’t change their lives,
Elevator to floor 3,
Follow the signs,
For Cancer Research.

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In a Moment

Worrying just makes you suffer twice.
Movie advice.
Revolutionary idea.
Easy to grasp, hard to follow.
I need an electrician.
Wires crossed.
Suffering in silence.
Silence an enemy.
Chaos a friend.
Too much time.
Thinking.

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