Writing

It was like your second cousin,

the one who stopped coming

to Thanksgiving

most of the time

but shows up sometimes

and you remember a picture

of her holding baby you

with blond curls and energy always

i wanted to be a writer

collected words to form my thoughts

                              to dictate what i felt but couldn't say

Once, we believed in the Tooth Fairy,
a girl in glitter with sparkly wings,
who would sneak in the dark,
to swap teeth for quarters,
as if they were treasures,
as if our childhood decay
was worth more than gold.

Am I the rainbow or the rain that makes it?
You ask, but it’s me asking, too.
Do I paint the sky with color,
or am I the prism that bends the light?

One voice says: You are a song played in a minor key,

What a beautiful season

Yet i wish I knew what was going on

Behind my back

The memories I wish were gone

It happened right in front of me

But my eyes were to blind to see

Was it all a lie

“What groups are you a part of? Who is your tribe?” someone once asked me.