Theme for me

Dear I,

It is a beautiful thing to know all that you are,

and devastating to know all the things that you aren't.

To have hands sprawled forward, stretching

for that thing that is beyond your abilities reach.

Absolutely devastating.

You used to think you were beyond the earth.

Something sublime.

A supposition proposed by

your mother

before you could speak.

Her words came like silk in the cold night.

Cooling fabric that covers your body

in a warmth of lies.

Covered your eyes and blinded you

Left you unaware of the dark.

Completely ignorant

of true exceptionalism.

It is devastating you didn’t learn sooner.

Absolutely.

At first you played in the silk.

Swallowed each word whole,

Insatiable.

Back when things were like they should have been,

when the world was how you imagined it to be

boy, girl, sports, dresses, math, snacks, god.

Listening to your mother’s mouth flow

you watched as her words

swept down through the valleys

and into the trenches of your heart.

You want to escape to before.

Everything is so dear in the past.

The present holds no clarity,

but the past reveals everything.

And now you want to return to this time.

Desperately.

You are unsure if you are,

something truly blessed

unsure if you are you.

When  all you know are the words from a mother's lips.

Profusely said words from a mother's lips,

spoken like a wave without end,

leaving a drought in your soul.

You want to go back.

Desperately.

It is a beautiful thing to be loved,

But do you love yourself?

Who you are,

Who you have always been,

Who you will be.

Do you love what you can and can’t be?

B+

Bound to this symbol you are.

89 has become your favorite number.

You wear this mark, like a necklace across your chest,

Embracing your capabilities,

Horrified by your capabilities,

Wondering what might be.