Little by little last years loneliness let go of the chokehold. and I could breathe. Like when you finally get to wash down a pill you tried to dry-swallow. Those feelings left like a dried dandelion in the wind. Made a wish and i woke up to days surrounded by faces fuelling my heart with love. Speaking kindly to me, tucking my hair behind my ear and kissing my fingers.
Yet another coarse curled man picked me up and dropped my heart and now, two months later i'm reminded of how it feels to be me again. The evening i shattered, i went to a public house, carrying white peonies in one hand and the pieces of my heart in the other. Sat in the inner corner, where the cream candles danced to my quiet cries, watching tears ripple and dilute my pint. wasn't asked how or what or why, but beers on the house and eyes meeting mine.
Got myself two secondhand silk scarves with floral print so that i can keep my hair out of the food i plate at work. And i am beauti - fucken- full, with thighs covered in pita flour, rosy cheeks from the heat of the stove, burn marks across my arms and a glowy falafel fry highlight. But i think what made me glow more than the deep fryer is my happy heart - not the flour on my shoes but that i place my feet in a space where i belong, where i'm loved, cherished and encouraged. Where i don't see myself as a waste of space, but sing till my voice's raspy and i laugh till i cry. To love and to be loved. I guess hummus where the heart is.
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