They say we push away
things that make us happy,
but they never tell us
how to pull them back.
I want a reason to smile,
a reason beyond
countless milligrams I have taken.
No, I wasn't myself.
I wish I had enough white out
to cover up the old me
and enough glitter pens
to write the story
of how I wish my life had gone,
how I wish I could have acted.
My dark twin is dying.
I am pushing her into the shadows.
I am coming to my five senses:
feeling the sun,
seeing your eyes,
hearing love lines,
smelling peroxide,
and tasting desire.
No more bloodshot eyes,
unanswered questions,
or stupid insecurities
that try to ruin me.
I threw them down the stairs
where my dismantled body used to lie.
They say what doesn't kill us
only makes us stronger.
I'm strong enough to find my voice.
