i have walked
down the street
smiling at people
and saying hello
how are you
while feeling
like i could die,
i have curled up
under blankets
thinking that i
was never going
to see the sun again,
i have seen puddles
and wondered if i
could drown in them.
still, i live
to see the ceiling fan
slowly spin above my bed,
to see the trees outside
swaying gently in the wind,
to see my boy curled up
breathing softly next to me.
i live because i know
that there are people
who hate that i can
feel love for my boy,
that i can change my
form like water, that i
can light fires with words.
their hatred strengthens me,
like pouring water
on a grease fire.
it helps me push
through the days
when my skull
is full of static.
i am still here.
i am still breathing.
die mad about it.