Sunday, September 28, 2014

Headline Poem 9/27/14 -- Imperfect me

A birthday poem. Happy birthday to me! 

Imperfect me 

I have a nail on my right hand 
that is dented with 
weird-looking skin. 

My nose is crooked. 

I have two moles on 
my right cheek 
that used to bother me 
so much so 
I'd turn my head for pictures. 

I'm learning to smile 
from both sides. 

I hate being late, but I usually am. 

I get distracted easily 
while cleaning 
or writing 
or dreaming. 
I'll start with a drawer and 
turn to see 
scissors 
lying on the floor, 
reminder of a project 
started 
simultaneously. 
I might finish both, 
but I'm okay 
if I don't. 

I long for freedom and 
adventure, and hold tight 
memories like 
rappelling down 
the Swiss Alps, 
but I'm still the girl who 
stays up all night 
worried 
about edited sentences,
and misspoken words. 

I'm learning to let go. 

But letting go is its own beast. 
What I release today usually 
tries to return the next, 
quiz just after a test, 
unexpected, 
to check 
whether what I know was memorized or really learned. 

I don't love crowds, but 
I'm okay when 
they're where they're 
supposed to be,
like on the streets of 
New York, 
or LA
or Rome, Italy. 

If people are genuine and real, 
I don't mind if 
there are lots of them. 

I'm mellow, but fiery. 
I'm tough, but happy 
when I don't have to be. 
I'm a dichotomy. 

Given the choice, 
I'd choose love
over anonymity, 
but because I'm indecisive, 
just writing that 
kinda scares me. 

I do that a lot though, 
put myself out there. 
I reach. 
I stretch. 
I branch out. 
I might flounder 
before I even out, 
but I'm willing to grow, 
and that makes me proud of me.