It's Me.

Holy flashback, a piece written in the dog days of freshmen year.

It’s Me

Long waves crash on the ocean of her back

as bangs frame her face preparing for a picture perfect headshot;

with lips that dance like her hearts’ open flames she opens her mouth

like an oyster showcasing a valley of pearls and a cloudy puff of peppermint aroma.

Her eyes are rimmed with a delicate powder

the color of seashells, wet with the moon’s reflection.

She always thought maybe she deserved a little more

than a bed to sleep in, or the bigger piece of pie

because of all those faces that have entered

windows she swears to have had locked and

entered her body without invitation sitting oh so,

coyly on that windowsill, now chipped with secrets.

You could never tell by looking at her, but place a scale beneath her feet

and you will see that something is not weighing up

for soggy saturated memories flood the burden that is her soul,

mind carries barrels of pictures of a few not-so-precious moments she’d rather

forget. However, her heart is an open gate letting people in an out freely, but the people

she keeps there do not return the favor, for those she lets rest inside her do not exist, but

are just as real as you and I. The people who love her are the people she bans from napping beneath her chest because she hates them for the very fact, they love her.

I hope that you read this, behind black bars

know that it’s you in that faded blue t-shirt with the frayed hem with

sharp cruel eyes that don’t match your enticing smile, but rather your

actions, I hope that you read this knowing

it’s me.