one day

you will see

one day my nails will scratch

the clear surface of a perfect shiny thing

pierce through its veil

penetrate my body deep within

and call it mine only

I am not a spring tulip a ripe peach pink a delicate parfum not a freshwater pearl white or even warmth sunlight no

I am black grey and blue

a pile of slippery mud cascading

onto years of quicksand

one day I will stand

straight on my own

Proud

not crouched in my corner again eyes peeled endlessly scrutinizing the cracks between my excuses looking for the tiniest chance to finally dig a pit for my frail shoulders

yet today I wake up once more

with the same heaviness

to the same flat routine

my hands still reaching

for the clear surface of a perfect shiny thing