Wave

There’s a lot of doors I’ve closed, but I would still wave through a window.

I have a history of muses. All of my explanations are mistaken for excuses.

I own everything I do and don’t do, but no one is used to people telling the truth.

I don’t lie like I used to – not because I can’t but because it makes my bones ache – at the thought of someone else trusting my false words.

I never want anyone to feel the guttural loss of betrayal from blood on my hands, so I keep them clean and I keep them open.

What you see is what you get – someone who is truthfully and wholly herself.