Being raised a girl — something slips out of my mouth unabashed I won’t even notice till I’m three letters in the ingrained habit I’ve always leant on as any opportunity someone might misinterpret me my breath my tone smile a gesture I don’t want to offend ! I need you to understand -Sorry!

Why yesterday but not today? — I smile confidently The recipe worked last time but today’s words don’t rise; each one falls flat. I remind everyone the recipe worked last time but I chew on every word; each one tastes bland. I scream to nobody the recipe worked last time but I throw salt on the words; each grain stings my wounds. I cry to myself the recipe worked last time yesterday these ingredients filled me with words

an impossible dream — he cracks the whip she buckles she bends he cracks his knuckles she believes in change. If her supple flesh succumbs to his needing she becomes, she believes, his impossible dream.

Riddle me a poem — I test you all but, in the end, it is only I that passes. You desperately try to mark me with good things, yet I mark you so effortlessly with things you think are so bad, you try to hide them. You don’t want to waste me but, in the end, it’s only you who wastes and withers away. The hands on your wrists don’t tell your secrets, I do. You save me like pennies not a princess. I can’t complain though because, in the end, I do nothing to save you.

Count your blessings, not the syllables — “These are what we call ‘Obsessive Thoughts’ The counting, the checking… the cure?” The therapist says, knowing I’m craving a quick fix. “It’s not so simple… identify discomfort; the odds. Breathe.”