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Day 10: Do your toes feel like stones?

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I would if I could,

Come up to you
beaming like the moon
and say,
Do you know my heart
is trapped between your eyes?”.

I could come and
ask if you want to
take me out,


If you think of me like I do you,
If you have sleepless nights
and dreamy days,


If you feel like your toes
are carrying stones
when you feel me coming close,

Day 9: Mother

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Hold her palms long enough,
and they’ll tell you tales
of the labor she’s had
bringing you up,


Stare at her long enough,
and you’ll see the love
etched inside her pupil,


The wisdom braided
within her greying hair,
The unspoken fear
that you might one day
outgrow your need for her care,


Sit on her bedroom floor
when in despair and feel
the prayers that rent the air,

Day 8: Little Feet, Quick Feet

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These little feet
Ever too quick,


Like speed trains
and fast lanes,
Always running to
the next phase,


Finish school, find a job,
Meet a guy, marry now,
Hurry this meal, lest you miss that scene,
Rush through Monday
so you can get to Friday,


No pause,
No eye contact,


No notice of the
color cocktails in distant skies,

Day 7: Tension

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Sitting through tension feels like death,
A slow death of choking
an already winded breath,


The tension of leaving behind
who we are so we can
embrace who want to be,


The tension of saying goodbye to
princess dolls and ninja turtles
so we can wear ties and stilettos,


The tension of closing the door
to a relationship that we really want
but shouldn’t have,

Day 6: Leather skirts & Fur coats

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Truth is,
I like leather skirts and fur coats,


They show you what I’d like you to see,
Not what’s really inside of me,


They hide those lies I feed from at night,
They hide that tummy that I think looks funny,
And they help me linger when I pass by the mirror,


You too like my leather skirt and fur coat,


Day 5: Sore Eyed

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When days feel like nights
Despite the sun’s bright light,


When my heart has sunk into waves of angst,
And no aubade can pull it from the dark,


I feel like a child wandering in a forest,
looking for God whom she lost through her torn pocket,


I search and search,
I shout and scream
Until finally,
Sore eyed,
A dying whisper escapes my lips,