backstairs, yesterday.

I'd rather sit far away

Smile 'til my legs gave way

And crumple, crumple, crumple

Into the arms of my concreted shadow

Than

Be

Your

Slave.

No, nein, non.

Whatever you understand

I won't bend and break

For you to drop my hand

And catapault far into the sunset.

I won't let you snap the glowsticks of my love

My joy

Until they leak over your hands

And smear into the olive oil and broken petals in my hair.

I will keep treading on the dusty old road through the forbidden woods

I made friends with the outcast witch who only ever liked cats and lanterns.

Isn't it funny how you are when you don't get what you want?

I drank potions of glitter

And now my eyes sparkle without the silver sliver of a cat's eye mascara stripe

I laugh without the reminders of the echoes in the background

Who mocked my movements

Because I am free.

No,

You see, years ago, upstairs

I would have hugged my chest and whined

Wondering why, why, why?

But I've shed that skin

And now I smile as I slither by

While you think about all the times I've been kind.

I know exactly how to scratch that button

And polish your ego until you shine

But the terms and conditions

Apply to this world and I find that your intentions

Do not appreciate the simplicity of inner grit and loyalty.

Backstairs, yesterday,

The question returned to me -

I thought, "What would I have done if they had noticed my cries?"

And I would've died...

I yelped at the shock but then it dipped because the pattern is only ever familiar

And what I say out loud lets the universe know my state of the art feelings.

I know, I know.

I should have tried.

But genuinely,

They refused to see my cries;

I am alive.

~