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To be your child.

What would it mean to be your child?

Would you still be proud?

And when they refuse to treat me right, 

Would you stand up and be loud?

a time, there was a girl who adored space. She read pages upon pages of books about constellations and the stars, memorizing names and how many miles away they were from earth.

Dear Anthony Bourdain

somewhere between the time you died and the time you lived 

i found a part of myself in the words you spoke

people hiding in the house / s they grew up in and left / hiding under tables in clo / sets long thin men pale pe / ople dark people all hidden / separately in the same room / waiting for the seeker to finis / h countingendlessly endlessly / up an

He can see kids glowing in the kitchen, 
Hands sticky with sweet gossip, 

Bright, beautiful little selves smudged by the window that he, 
A cracked old statue has broken his hands and fingers by banging on, 

A girl stood alone

on the edge of the world,

scared to fall,

but somehow she could not leave

Her heart pounding,

Her chest screaming,