A Series

Curtains

I am a theatre kid at heart. 
I memorize the script, 
I act even when I am not talking, 
I sing, 
I dance, 
I grin big,
I play the lead character. 
My curtain is never drawn;
I exist like everyone is watching–
Even I am my own audience. 
I never miss my cue. 
When someone asks me a question, 
I reply with my line.
“No” was not written in my script.
So instead, 
I perform. 

“Your Hair ___”

Your hair is so crazy, 
poofy even.
In fact, your hair is similar to a bird’s nest.
Ugly.
Unmanageable.
A weird shape.
It makes you look like a boy. 
Your hair is something you should be grateful for, because “people pay good money for curls like that.”
“You should try straighening it”
Your hair (apparently in a nice way?) is comparable to dog fur.
Your “afro” is unprofessional; so is your frizz and the same goes for your braids. 
“Can you even wash it? How long does that take?”
Your hair is always an open invitation to be touched.
Your hair makes you different.

Lunar Eclipse

I am a galaxy.
My mind is the Sun, shining, often worshiped for it’s glory;
I am constantly reminded of how far its light reaches.
My heart is the full Moon. 
Waxing, waning, pulling the tides, nearer and farther. 
Although existing in the dark, 
the Moon is inviting, and full of radiance that gleams. 
The Moon has been stepped on by man.
I now hide behind the brilliance of the Sun.
But maybe 
The world is most beautiful when the Sun 
And Moon 
Sit together in the same pink and orange sky.
I am more than just what the Sun has to offer.
I am the universe and all of its stars.

Featured Image: “Solstice Lunar Eclipse (NASA, 12/21/10)” by NASA’s Marshall Space Flight Center is licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0.