OverTheRainbow

When I was younger, summer meant going swimming, getting ice cream, and taking trips to the Montshire Museum. Now, although some of those things still apply, I experience them differently than I used to.

wrap your laced-up fingers around my throat like you don’t want to breathe,

hold my pupils in your palms. do you want to smile?

amnesia. the brain doesn’t like the watercolour poem of my skeletal frame,

you've felt

the brambles and sweat, 

the curl of berry-stained lips.

you've seen

the cornflower sky stolen

by a red-orange river,

the evening still thick

with lightning bugs and laughter.

I don’t know if I’m pretty enough for this world, 

I’ve got scars from every adventure I’ve ever had. 

I’ve got acne and spots no matter what I do and what I eat. 

We have something to learn from

(the toddler who smiled

while he peeled his banana

and ate it in five bites

and gave us all high fives)

(the lady with orange glasses gray hair 

her voice sounded heavy to her, filled

with the unnamed emotion

everyone had told her to expect. except

she hadn't. she'd rolled

her eyes at the shiny pamphlets and blog posts