Fainting Goat

Once there was a man

Who could

Do

It

All.

A man of many arts

The stage

The desk

The microphone

note: this is not targeted at anyone, it’s just my opinion :)

Writing is my pulse,  
my breath,  
my way of being.  
They don’t own my words,  
my thoughts,  
my voice.  

If I have a daughter, I will name her 

Sylvia.

A big name,

A burgeoning hope.

Sylvia.

today i am sixteen,

but in five days i turn seventeen

i lie on the bridge between my childhood,

and the promising future ahead of me.

as i held dearly onto my most beloved stuffed animal,

Salty.

I lick my lips, trying to clean my face. Then I remember, I am not a cat. I lift my hand to my eyes to dry the tears the old fashioned way. They are cold. I am holding hands with myself.