(This is something that’s been rolling through me lately. Just ignore and go on if it doesn’t apply to you. Thank you.)
I’d meet a man
And I’d follow him blindly
He’d snap his fingers
Me? I’d say “sure”.
(Little Shop of Horrors)
So.
Something happened.
Somebody’s hands were on you.
Somebody’s words are in you.
And you think that you have to follow.
Oh my darlings. Oh my darlings.
What you are being told.
What is now in your head
That is not truth.
Those words…
The ones people now call you?
The ones you call yourself?
Those ugly words that you treat as a joke,
As part of your armor,
As part of you?
Those words…
They aren’t who you are.
They aren’t ever who you are.
Listen.
Please listen.
Hands.
Lips.
Breath.
That isn’t who you are.
Someone touched you.
Someone touched you again.
Touches.
Touches aren’t who you are either.
Ever.
Touches don’t mean that you have to follow.
Touches don’t mean that you have to obey.
Touches don’t mean that you have to belong to the names…
The ones they call you
OR
The ones you call yourself.
That’s not
That’s not ever
Who you are.
There are things
Down in your soul
There are things
Books
Music
Dancing
Crayons
Water
Dresses
High Heels
Pencils
Paper
Sewing Machines
Dirt Roads
Backwoods
Puppies
Guitars
and Raindrops
You like to knit
You like to dance
You like to garden
That
The deep down
Inside
Soul Mending
Part of you
That
That
Is who you are
That
Not the things they say
Not the things you’ve done
Not the touches
Not the kisses
Not the words
You don’t have to.
Oh my darling…
You may be hurting
You may be searching
You may be believing
Those words
Ugly
Accusatory
or
Soft
and Honey Flavored
Oh my darling
My darling
It’s not the truth
Not really
Not ever
Those words
Harsh
or Pretty
Sour
or Sweet
They are not you
You don’t have to follow
You don’t ever have to follow
You don’t ever have to listen.
You don’t ever have to believe them.
Ever.