when you win, you make a speech
thanking the ones who supported you
you’re supposed to be humble in your poise
you’re supposed to smile
there are some trophies you earn
that never have a ceremony
no round of applause
does success still count
if there is no fanfare?
at what point
does a table for one
fill a room?
I’ve had dreams of alternate worlds
cotton candy clouds and magical hillsides
where things go upside down on thursdays
and there’s no wifi on sundays
my feet will one day plant on uneven ground
and find strength to grow
even amidst strangeness
there are these moments
that have passed, but
never really left us
entrenched in who we are
and who we’re becoming
we drive along dirt roads,
resisting the urge to race raindrops
flying against the windshield
we see boxed birthday cake mix
and can’t justify buying it because
it’s no one’s birthday
these moments in our lives
times we did or did not
we discover profound truths
that we are defined by what
we let happen to us
that every single life has value
that every day is worth celebrating
with a boxed birthday cake
we’re feeling closer than ever before
greeting hellos in distant passing
an acknowledgement of an external fight
we’re fighting inside
there’s no blood on the streets
and the lights illuminate every window
we’re living a history book, real time
we talk so much about nothing at all
we ask about each other’s day
and mean it
play me that song you like
the one where we dance in April rain
let’s be restless through the night
aloof in summer linen
and when we feel out of sorts
we’ll wear our blues and
remember every line
I’ll gaze as your lip curls,
crescent moon
the youthful glow
a ray of sun
bursting through the sill
egg’s yolk spilling
soaking into burnt toast
the back of my hand is
warm from the sunlight
the cutlery reflects
right into my eyes
my father spoons another helping onto my plate
I’m jealous of the sun
the way it warms you, wherever you are
one day I’ll find ways to
catch sunlight in my hands
and hold you there
sometimes I find myself
dreaming of my past selves
and how I can become them
more beautiful, more youthful
I’m learning to celebrate me
by not wishing to be
who I was yesterday
what a disservice that is
to consider today nothing short of
progress
off-kilter:
one day I will find myself
without looking for someone else first
I’m doing my best to
make time and celebrate
all the parts of me that
I can’t quite seem to love.
for I am only pieces of this
delicate machine
and if all I can do is
my best,
then that’s what I’m going to do.
elleguyence 