We are not hallmark cards

I think people make the mistake of thinking that they need to romanticize the human race
turn messy into thunderstorms, volcanoes
Pull beauty out of fists in walls and broken trust
But I am not a poem
I do not spill into similes when I laugh
or puddle in punctuation with every ache
I am a girl
made out of lightning bolts and tantrum
Erupting every time I’m touched
Loading my fists with storm so I can
punch away the ugly
I am not a poem
I will not cry over your graceful exit
or make my sadness into a song
I will fight the wind with my stubborn
and wrap myself in contentment
until my smile knows how to live on its own
without the help of manufactured satisfaction
We are not poems
we do not fumble into constellations
or trickle tear stained starry skies down our cheeks
We are humans
We break and we shatter, messily
We fall and it is not gentle
it is a goddamn disaster every time we love
But that is the beauty of it,
the one little thing we have that is worth aching for
My god, we are a disaster
But that is what makes us beautiful