I Am Not Yours

I am not yours, not lost in you,
Not lost, although I long to be
Lost as a candle lit at noon,
Lost as a snowflake in the sea.

You love me, and I find you still
A spirit beautiful and bright,
Yet I am I, who long to be
Lost as a light is lost in light.

Oh plunge me deep in love—put out
My senses, leave me deaf and blind,
Swept by the tempest of your love,
A taper in a rushing wind.

- Sara Teasdale

if he isn’t calling you then it’s okay to feel
this destroyed over a boy but remember
he did you a favor i know you think this is
the end but it is also the beginning it is also
cleaning up after yourself you can’t keep
crawling inside other people sooner or later
the heap of clothes at the foot of your bed
is going to stand up on its own and talk back
you can’t just wash your hair in the sink
forever when there are people with real
problems who still remember to recycle
and when did you become so soft? trying
so hard to look sexy in photos that you come
off as confused eating nothing but waffles
is not a diet even if there are blueberries
don’t ask just tell about the kinds of shocking
things you find under your nail beds your
mother warned you about pain that would be
there one day and then gone the next she
warned you about it all

I like cancelled plans. And empty bookstores. I like rainy days and thunderstorms. And quiet coffee shops. I like messy beds and over-worn pajamas. Most of all, I like the small joys that a simple life brings.

mini-backstab.

caught you, liar.

lied through your teeth,

without batting an eyelid.

and might I say, with no seemingly obvious purpose.

merely doing this to ruin another’s impression of me would have been petty.

wasn’t I a worthwhile ally?

you aren’t very smart, are ye.

Oh my God, what if you wake up some day, and you’re 65, or 75, and you never got your memoir or novel written; or you didn’t go swimming in warm pools and oceans all those years because your thighs were jiggly and you had a nice big comfortable tummy; or you were just so strung out on perfectionism and people-pleasing that you forgot to have a big juicy creative life, of imagination and radical silliness and staring off into space like when you were a kid? It’s going to break your heart. Don’t let this happen.