11/9/24

I am speechless.

My thoughts don't make sense

and my voice struggles to come out and make a sound.

I am wordless

and I write but my cold fingers have forgotten the keys 

or how to hold a pen

Ode to those that make life into gold

that bring us some sparkle as we grow old

Ode to the places, friends, and small things

to which credit's unequal to the joy that they bring

I will not shave my legs

not because I am against it

but because being myself feels like my own act

of rebellion

I will not quiet down

let the world hear my pride and excitement

but I will not shout