Thursday, May 1, 2014

Bee yourself

is not the exposition of hair breaking 
or scars and mistaking 
Not the effects of leftover alcohol in your soul 
or even your turned out closet.
One is 
What makes of those moments, 
all put together
of breaking hairs and of mornings beyond alcohol 
Spirits are never made to be worn out
One becomes what one puts up 
or lets go off, like decorations
one is collected in attics through the years
and one is vibrantly polished like glass surfaces-
One never stops growing, 
old, but somehow taller, or heavier 
Truthful but somehow leaner 
One's self stretches its wings enough
to fit the world 
yet awes at where other selves start.  

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