Not for lost love.
Which is a change.
But for change itself.
And it felt so goddamn good.
To see myself represented.
On the world stage.
To see what I love and hold dearest.
Cherished and made important.
Is more important to me than breathing.
Third in the long list of importances.
I am grey and free.
But I am lost and blue.
With so much pressure on my plate.
it has cracked and been replaced.
more times than six.
my porcelain glued and pretending.
I don't know what to call this poem.
because even I don't know what it's about.
but I know that today I cried.
for the first time in a long time.
not for love but for hope (and J Lo).
and I promise to be better for the world.
even if it is ultimately worse for me.
inspiration is a magic trick.
coming when you least expect it.
and I have been moved to move on.
seek refuge in those that actually care.
forgive those who do not.
keep lifting the poetic drawbridge.
to let boats of the future through.
one day I will figure this poem out.
and look back with life's eyes.
blurry and watery from dying tears.
and know that fear is just the opposite.
of what I meant to convey.