ACCEPTANCE

141
4
Submitted Date 03/18/2019
Bookmark

Acceptance

When I was six,

I’d mix baby powder,

water

and

stolen silver nail polish together.

Called myself making a hardened paste.

I’d smooth the paste around my favorite

toy tea cup and think about my taste

in the finer things like:

unbreakable tea cups,

soft Play-Doh

and secret kisses from her.

We did some secret cootie catching and releasing

in the crevices of a house that reeked

of prayers, love and anointing oil.

I didn’t know any better

back then and it seems

I’m back to square one,

and

I knew better back then

like

I know better now.

Except, my kisses are no longer

surreptitious.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Acceptance II

I kiss in front of red doors,

simply be,

my weird thinking patterns,

awkward gawking and strange taste

in the beautiful things in life like:

strong summer winds

making turf wars with

busy Wall Street employees.

Or,

well behaved twist outs

that cause me to buy

that plastic tiara just for the hell of it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Acceptance III

I was fine before the grooming.

I’m done pleading with a created creator

to make me something I am not.

To bend, twist and shape me into

a mold that appeases

the dogmatic and frightened.

I am done being ashamed for simply being

…me:

A lil’ ol’ phoenix

who likes to write,

laugh, shimmy

and dance in my room at 3am.

 

Related Stories

Comments

Please login to post comments on this story