pick your poison
I hate the words I wear on my sleeve so insistently
like I'm supposed to protect myself in cotton armor
I hate the words because most of them are not mine
I've borrowed them
or they were given to me
or maybe I stole them
from people who are no more significant
than leaves that I crunch under my feet
I hate my words because they are not like me
they are content to just be
I want my words to break jaws and
strike everyone down to their knees
so they don't know what to say or do but to look at me
in maybe love or fear or hate but
please just not insignificance
These words
they lock me into my ribcage
leaving my heart to beat against its prison
screaming I am more than just this
I watch her
her fists raising the skin of my breast
and I wonder if I'll ever find a way
to let her fall in love with
the things she does
and the skin she's in
and the person she is
And I wonder if I'll ever find a word
to sum up who that woman is
and if I'll find the courage
to wear that weapon on my sleeve