When senses run together, dull in the rack  
Of night, it’s Chaos who culls true meaning.
He mocks the light of day in paradox  
Sings: ‘we are such stuff as dreams are made on.’
The ****** end, embodies the souls watery  
Beginning, and so the beating star is all
Intermingled; until flesh and fibers are done,
Thus: ‘we are such stuff as dreams are made on.’
Though mighty Jove, who beat the antique world
Down, cast poor Agamemnon his fate, it’s
Helen of Troy whose aisling breaks like doom,  
All from the strain of Leda and the Swan.  
For, ‘we are such stuff as dreams are made on,
And our little life is rounded with a sleep.’

I used to bury myself in huge jackets.
I'd mope about and hate my curvy body,
hate the way my lips puffed,
my long hair, the way I was soft all over,
the way I was expected to shave
everything but my face.

I used to hate makeup and dresses,
girly movies and shoes and bobby pins.
I hated boybands. I hated pink things.
It took me a long time to realize that
I didn't actually hate these things.
I hated women.

Femininity was lesser. I was not good enough
because of my two X chromosomes,
because of my *****, because of my period.
I was weaker. I was stupider. I was
statistically less likely to succeed,
less likely to be important,
less likely to be loved.

These things weren't right. They were never true.
But it didn't matter, because nine-year-old me
believed them. My opinion didn't start to change
until I was thirteen and I wore a pretty dress
as a character in a home movie we were making
and I walked down the stairs and my friends
whispered whoa.

I began to understand then the power I had.
As a girl I was never lesser. I was never weaker.
Maybe physically, but that was more my personality,
and all those lies I'd told myself about success
about my importance about love
I began to reconsider.
I thought hey wait hold on
this can't be right, I'm not stupid, I'm not weak,
I'm not ugly and I'm not fat
and I'm not any of these things because
I'm a girl.

When I started to see myself as worthy of
other peoples' love, I realized I should love myself.
I don't hide my femininity away in huge jackets anymore.
I don't walk down the street fearful
of the people walking past who seem stronger.
Because in my lipstick and my cute heels,
I am in total control.

If I was snow
Would you be my angel?
Leaving your imprint
Indentation upon my heart,
Footprints on the beaches
Of my mind
All your memories
Beckoning me
Like my own
Dark city,
I the constructor
Of my own reality,
You my shell beach
Inaccessible dream,
Or would you fly away?
Mistaking the white of me
For a cold barren world,
Though even in the depths
Of any wasteland
There is life
You cannot see,
Just waiting
For the warm sun to rise,
And as such I await you,
Frozen in a place
Time forgot,
My soul on ice
As you skate on by,
Maybe we'll meet
When the winter thaws
And the rivers flow
Life anew with you once more...

APAD13 - 147  © okpoet

And if you find me
(fingers red)
holding onto the side of your
no-vacancy boat—

please, step
on my fingers because
the pain of that is less than the
hope of hanging on.

I've always loved to
float
alone.

seems to live there now,
scratching at night, rustling,
while we wait below for
quiet.

company in the day, when
darkness falls ocd ensues

we write the day, draw
in lines, make conversation. we have lost
a friend,

gained another.

sbm.

why are you acting like a stranger?
we're stagnating, and id wager
that if you had the chance
you'd erase this fumbling dance.
erase it from your memory
and from history
why i'm drawn to you is a mystery.
we never really had a chance.

were so completely different
and i'm trying to forget you.
what more do you wish of me?
we never really had a chance.