Photo by Aian Tabor
I waited in all manner of places
For a good day to begin.
Basking in blue laced lights and
A lust for liberation from
All that could be defined by my superiors as
A good day for a girl
Enveloping our wrists and waists
With surgeon-like conformity.
I turn from ill-fitting gaze and
fears of fragility.
They have never been my heroes-
Though I am told they should be.
I choose to find my good days in the
Of those who
Drag mud in the house and
Smear their names on the walls.
Unabashed… at last.