poetry for the poetic: 5

LXXXIII

i was sitting there blowing out dandelion
seeds while the sky was threatening storms,
and i realized how brave it was. to continue
wishing for sunlight when i've been denied
it for so long. this year has been one grey
cloud after another and i've always been
left standing in the eye of the storm. me,
the girl who is turning herself pink, writing
of spring, and trying to learn to be the calm
instead of the clatter. it's all been about
learning how to smile at an empty sky and
stop taking the abyss so personally. learning
that when i bleed out it isn't pretty, but when
i spill words, it is. there's a fine line between
being empty and starting to fill yourself back
up. i am a gentle creature by nature and this
means i attract predators more often than
allies. i've had to learn how to sharpen my
teeth into something that can do damage
and that's why for weeks at a time my words
come out jagged and painful. this is not the
person i want to be, it's more of a defense
mechanism. but this is still better than who
i was last year: scared to blow out the
dandelion seeds because i couldn't stand
to lose anything else.