If you can’t find a    l                     to the sky
                                a            b
                                d           m
                                d            i
                                e            l
                                r     to    c             the easier excuse is:
                                                            “I’m scared of heights.”

   
                                                             ***

        But I ravaged my drawers
And there was a shower
                         Of crystal marbles,
                                                                 Coin-filled
                                                           Ballet-shoe-shaped
                                                                Saving boxes,
    Black straps
          Of
Long thrown away
       Bras                                              and rusty
                                                           Hair pins.


                          I took out my old diary,
                           Which still hurts after

                                     all

                                    the



                                Laughter



                         Over my nonsense

                          And I swore I’ll have more trust
                           In my mental pages, which
                                I only covered with scratches
                                          And
                                     Wet spots

                                       From


                                        My



                                    Breath.


                           I gloated over its front cover
                                       As I let it


                                            b
                                            u
                                            n
                                            j
                                            e
                                            e
                                            -
                                            j
                                            u
                                            m
                                             p


                            from my window.

                                                             And my tulle    c
                                                                                   u
                                                                                r
                                                                             t
                                                                        a
                                                                             i
                                                                               n
                                                                                  s     bloomed,
                                                                                                     wet
                                                                                                 with

     dew
    not with


                                            tears.


                                                              ***

“I was the girl who danced at the bus stop”,
                                              I confessed to myself and to my
                                                                                  Drunk
                                                                               Stalker

                                                           Looking

                                                                d
                                                                o
                                                                w
                                                                 n       at him

                                                                                         Unafraid
                                                                                     To put on



                              My high-heels.


                                                                      ***


                  Walls I covered with self-portraits


                                flawed

                                 like I am
                               but true
                                                  and
                                                                        brave


                         crying,
                                                        smiling,
                                                                                                                  raging,
                                                                                 dreaming,

                            but all defiant.

                   I have accepted
                                            I’m not the blond curly girl

            And I sympathize with odd-ones-out.


                                                                      ***

                                                         No,
                                     buses don’t scare me anymore
                                                    Because

                                    His                              eyes
                                                     Are
                                                    Blue
                                                     But
                                                     Mine

                                               Ignite the sky


                         And I have fallen in love with the sun
                                               Through speckled windows.


                                                              ***


If I need to laugh
                                                                                            I have a cabinet of jokes.
If I need to love
                                                                                            I have a desk with pencils.
If I need to die
                                                                                            I have a balcony of heights.

                                                       I have made a wrong decision
                                                         And I’m

                                                        proud

                                                              of it


                                                      Because I won’t be scared of using the word

                                                                                        “I”
                                                                                                anymore

                                                         I

                                                   just


                                                    simply




                                                 only




                         Need someone to remind me



                                                    That






                                       I’m alive.