The Things You Taught Me:
To love bar soap.
How to accept rejection gracefully.
What it is like to be betrayed by your own boundaries.
How to argue my point.
To laugh early and often
That sometimes there is no explaining myself, stop trying.
To witness my own mastery in fabricating the depth of love that I wanted so badly.
The joy of having a man to travel with.
The diagnosis for the pain in my belly,
feels like a swallowed scream,
often doubling me over in pain.
Her name is grief.
The art of cooking with butter.
What it feels like to dance with selflessness.
To love jazz music.
How it feels to be the desperate one.
When to let go of other people’s judgment.
To recognize that regret often coats the soles of my feet,
forcing cantilever, deliberate steps.
How to be profoundly diplomatic in all points of contention.
The sting of indifference.
How to give my self emotional sutures,
forcing the sides of my flesh back together,
healing over the void that I called destiny, mutual, boundless, love.
How to wear a scar.