At the library,
I sit in my usual seat.
Do you sense my gaze?
I wish you would look at me.
Yet I am afraid
Of what I may or may not see…
I am the lonely crow that prays
To join the trio of lovely doves
Who painted my feathers black
With their betrayal, and flew away.
My honorary sisters,
Crows in disguise
Forced to destroy me
With their tangles of lies
I miss you
I hate you
I wish you
I…
I can’t say it.
You have done too much.
Do you feel me watching you
Oh, so desperately
From across the library?
You won’t turn to look at me
But here is where I’ll always be.

You see me every day
Strutting down these boring halls
Pretending to be strong,
To be confident,
To be stunning
And charming
Flashy and fun
While crumbling on the inside,
Wearing the mask, trying to hide
From the masses of people that shouldn’t have tried
To wear me down,
To tear me down.
But, you see, there are these moments.
Times when I truly am myself,
Stripped clean of all facades
And showing off my vulnerability
To the world. And not caring.
And feeling something wonderful,
Something grand,
Electrifying.
I call this feeling metamorphosis.
Transformation.
Shift.
It comes with the minutes that seem like glorious hours
Singing your heart out, letting your voice flow
Feeling drunk on the cheers, on your own inner power
But scared of making a mistake. You won’t. And you don’t
So everyone starts screaming your name
When you’ve finished your song, and you float on air
Brilliantly colored red ribbons of elation
Twisting in your mind.
It comes with the tentative exhilaration
Stepping onto the blindingly bright, white ice
Gliding along with bliss, hearing susurration
Of your ice skates smoothly flying across pearly white skies
And you let yourself be swept up in it
And twirl through air to land perfectly,
Pale lilac stars of excited calm
Drifting through your mind.
It comes with the wonderful relaxation, like heaven
Enveloping you comfortingly, a warm blanket
As you bite your lip, trying to figure out number seven
And you jump to the correct conclusion with just ten seconds left
And you scribble down “125 pi”
With a relieved exhale and sit back,
Mellow yellow circles of confident anticipation
popping through your mind.
It comes with the frenzied, wild happiness
Seizing you as you sit, wrapped in bed
And your own thoughts, making connections to assess
Should you delete that last sentence? No, it will fit well in this novel of yours
And the only sound is the tap-tap-tap
Of the keys of your laptop as you write a story,
Summer-sky-blue rounded rectangles of grand ideas and ambitions
Swooping across your mind.
This transformation
Feels wildly beautiful
When you are in your own element
And greatness thrums through your alert veins.

Perfect is my golden teddy bear chain,
Ice cold on my throat and neck.
Perfect is the warm, humid wind,
Right before a summer rain.
Perfect is immersing myself in music,
Earbuds snug in my ears.
Perfect is the aroma, the perfume,
Of new Bloch pointe shoes.
Perfect is the flying satisfaction,
Of a perfect triple turn.
Perfect is reading in the corner of a room,
Entering a portal into another world.
Perfect is my pencil on a post-it,
Sketching out something spontaneous.
Perfect is being squeezed and held,
In a tight group hug.
Perfect is laughing,
Even after tears.
Perfect is love,
Smiles peeking from the shyest faces.