What's going on here?

What's going on here?
Well Amanda and Emily both have goals to write more. Amanda wants to write a poem and a half a day for the next year, while Emily wants to write for National Write a Novel Month (NaNoWriMo), which is usually in November, but she is going to do it from now until her mission on May 18th. Here is were you can follow us in our goals! Leave comments, encouragement, and what ever else you feel like.

Thursday, December 29, 2011

Crooked Grins

I’ve got a thing for lopsided jaws
For uneven grins
Great hair
And hearty laughs.
I’ve got a thing for scraggily faces
For kind eyes
For mama’s boys.
I’ve got a thing for rough hands
Flannel shirts
 And thick leather boots.
But most of all
I’ve got a thing for the broken.
The ones who’ve fallen apart too many times to count.
The ones whose child mosaic skin is still drying from the last time they were shattered.
Ones who can’t figure out themselves enough
To even care what the hell is going on with me.
Because it’s those ones
The busy self absorbed broken ones
Who don’t need me when I am shattered
Who don’t need me when I can’t stand.
Who don’t need me when I can barely scrape myself off the floor enough to breathe.
I know love is about trust
And you gotta find someone to love you and trust you and care for you in those broken moments
But I’m not ready for that yet.
I am not ready to give someone so much of my heart that they have a majority
Not ready to have shareholder meetings in the open
And have them dictate to me how best to pick up the pieces.
I like the shareholder meetings I have alone in my bedroom at night
Bending and breaking and stitching and gluing by the street light
And praying someday I’ll stop mending this skin of mine
And just find a new one
So I don’t have to be ashamed of the worn places and the patches.
No I don’t think I’m ready yet for someone to step in
Hold me when I feel broken
And tell me to breathe
Because I haven’t figured out how to say those words back
And I don’t know how to work these two lungs of my own
Let alone breathe oxygen into anyone else.
So I’ve got a thing for these men
These men who can’t stand in their own leather boots sometimes.
Who can’t look themselves in the eyes and see an honest man.
Who don’t notice the girl whose got her fingers curled around their coattails
Begging for a ride to anywhere but home.
But someday I’ll grow up.
Someday I’ll stop wishing on stars and moons and pennies
And praying that I had new skin.
Someday I’ll be okay
But for now
For now I will lick my lips at these men
These broken, crooked jawed flawed men
And I will know they are my now.
They are my present
Not my future.
Because someday
Someday I’ll have it all figured out. 


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