It was my hair, wasn’t it?
it accented your t-shirt at the time or your eye color, or your endless insecurities.
you forgot entirely that i am a person entirely-
not just a big smile, an aesthetic,
some kind of misplaced manic pixie dream girl let loose in the wild for you to discover and collect, oh Columbus
I should have known
you
as a proud garden,
the kind that makes the gardeners seem non-existent
which is to say you hide the hands that prune you while bragging about your blossoms.
Isn’t that toxic masculinity?
silencing the fems that birthed you, then raised you, then grew you.
& you grow
just like a wildflower now,
all over the damn place
taking up precisely as much space
as you feel like, just spreading and spreading
How does it feel to be everywhere,
uninvited?
Don’t answer that.
This isn’t about you. It’s about me.
I’m a canary,
you’re a coal mine and I am done singing for anyone but myself.
I’m an ocean but somehow you’re salty.
What’s the matter?
Am I too deep?
Were you looking for something more conquerable?
(I mean simple)
Try aisle 9.
or any aisle that gets you out of my face or my dm’s.
This is for everyone who has ever been made to feel like they are
too much
too big
too loud
too everything
Perhaps we are just right.
Perhaps you are Goldilocks and we don’t feel like making porridge today.
Perhaps you suck
the marrow then say the bones aren’t sweet enough
Ask for less thoughts, more brain
less mouth, more tongue
Perhaps you only want a shell of someone so you can forget you are but a whisper of yourself.
& 