Sometimes

Some days I have to remind myself that 

blank pages are worth ruining if you spilled yourself all over them.

Coffee stains are love letters to some people.

Pens come in different thicknesses but always smell the same.

And some people will push the humming of your heart behind
the glass wall of everyone else's opinion
and there's nothing you can do.

He doesn't write about me anymore and she was excited to tell me that.

Canada is accessible through 13 states, including Alaska, and yet I've never been there.

I like being a lonely soul who wants to make art out of herself, 

but everyone skims the surface while the key to my metaphors lies at the bottom of the pool.

My heartache makes me weary and my weary legs are getting tired of being weary.

Someone invented the mechanical pencil because they took time to study led.

And somebody is fake laughing right now.

I remind myself that

Grant Lyman sat out during the girls choice dance last Saturday.

Christmas is in 7 months.

The letters stopped coming but the ones I kept can't be changed.

My hands are always the first to move

and yours are always the first to flee.

But at least the wolf shirt was all ears on the space ride at Lagoon

and at least Matisse is still ambitious enough for stranger rodeo.

Some days I have to remind myself that someone loves my painting,

that my yearbook is worth signing,

that my heart isn't beating for fun.

And some days I have to remind myself 

that I don't need people to fight for me

but I do,

some days.