Perhaps it is finally happening.
A proud riverbed of tears
The making of a woman
Hopeful that my sweat will be worth in gold.
Perhaps it is also a second mirror.
Beyond a career of stable joy
Something a little bigger than friendship may await
For only those who don't give up
And stab themselves with dejection.
I am trying like I always am,
To be happy, to claim my breaths as my own
To finally understand what love and hope can and cannot do.
Perhaps it is like my poetry
Deep and meaningless
Letters to myself and the woman I paint myself to be.
Perhaps it is you who can read it as a gift.