A woman’s life is defined by the space she takes up,
Or lack thereof.
Be gentle, be quiet, step softly, don’t speak too loud.
This is how I spent the majority of my years,
Shrinking myself down to the smallest I can be,
An atom floating in timelessness.
I wore my hair straight, dull.
Drank the kool-aid and kissed boys without tongue,
Afraid they would taste my secrets.
Tried to open my third eye elevate my senses
Step into the others girls skin and make something
Pretty of myself.
I hit mecca, found myself in empty cigarette cartons and tequila bottles,
In another mans bed
In my own bed
In a foggy basement where I sat down and took a space unapologetically.
Once you accept that life is too short
To go out quietly, things seem to slow down.
Or speed up maybe, I haven’t seemed to
Pay attention to time, just the tune
And rhythm of my own fantasies.
