Talysia

Dragons aren't good at laundry. They catch loose threads on their scales, And think they should be able to singe their clothes dry. When trying to treat stains, Their claws rub holes where yesterday's knight had been. Their tails make poor clothes lines, Using wings to to helps dry just sends everything into the mud, And, no matter what kind of detergent they use, They can never seem to get the smell of smoke out of the fabric. Dragons may not be good at laundry, But they're good at many other things.

I don't need to be good at this I never did I just got complacent with being better And somehow tried to tie that into my identity In better, I forgot that I've never done this for anyone but myself The feeling in my head when I string words together Is something for me, and me alone I've poems humming in my back pocket And poetry buzzing in my head It's never been about being good enough for anyone else I just need to remember to write for me, instead

I am living empty With little white pills that bring me back up to half full Each day is a new experience, A new message that tells me how much of a person I'm not And how much of a person I wasn't. I haven't found a good way to describe my dysthymia And some days I wonder if there even is a way Because, outside of everything in my life, I still feel like a chalk outline on the sidewalk Where a body used to be And every time I encounter an emotion that I had lost I realize that I'd been seeing grey And thinking it was black. How can you trust the colors Or try and color in your outline When you can never be sure if black is bla

I am both crow and dove One named by boyfriend and the other I found Cawing a cacophony Outside my window on a bright, sunny Winter's day His words shape my heart And the girl who has always dreamt on dragon's wings Finds home on feathered ones as well Shelter me, hold me close, that no colors marr my purest white Scream with me, soar with me, and live life to its fullest Without thinking once about how others feel about the noise we make Because I am both crow and dove And I have nests to build That must be feathered from more than one set of wings I will be peace and compromise; understand, soothe, and smooth feathers, But I

I guess what I miss, More than anything, Is that you were there for me There aren't words to begin to describe What you've done for me With just being there And having those words at hand when my world was cracking And falling apart I miss having someone who understands, Who I don't have to placate with words Who understands that there is more to me Than the smile that I put on my face And that sadness isn't all bad Crying, sadness, painful; but then, Life is pain So that pain comes at a price That I'm willing to pay You were there for me, in the dark, When I went past the boundaries I had set in my mind And when the night seemed like it

There is a dragon in me A voice that sings out with a roar A fire in my eyes That burns in my belly And wings hiding beneath my skin Just itching to spring free And bear me, soaring, Across the landscape of my dreams I can feel it in me And sometimes it trickles out in words Like puffs of smoke On the breeze I will roar.

There once was a time when I knew I could find The answers for which I had sought An answer a day kept the questions away And I listened to what I was taught It's been long since then, a forgotten time when My dreams were unclouded by fears And I laughed at my doubts and never worried about What future I built with my years When it came down to me, I was wild and free And never asked myself what I did wrong I'd climb a tree, queen of all I could see, Knowing I was beautiful, proud, brave, and strong Where've those days gone, acting out on the lawn Epic journeys of power and strife When I'd wake with the dawn and play all day long Wringing

I. Am. Beautiful. How weird is that? I don't know when it happened or where it came from, or when I suddenly became comfortable in this ugly, ungainly, awkward body I lived in So when is it that we become beautiful? Is it in the moments your friends tell you that you are, but you don't believe them? Is it in the moments when you look in the mirror and frown At the ugly, pock marked, face That has pimples dancing across it like Stars in the sky And black heads which rival cheetah spots But without the majesty or the added speed? Is it when we finally look down at ourselves, Our perspective skewing every misproportion of our growing bodies U

Written in whimsy, across the sky In stars, in light, in hearts, in breath As each heart beats and paints the day And rings the beginning and the end In the colors of their lives That all may see: we dance the dance, And walk the walk, And paint the world with our actions And our voices

Happy dragon Baby dragon Hush little fire-tongue Flap a little gentler Breathe a little slower The day is almost done Sleepy dragon Tired dragon Cool your inner fire Curl up tight And dream of flight Your dreams will take you higher Little dragon Yawning dragon Your eyelids flicker lower Dusk is past And, at long last, The day is finally over Sleeping dragon Silent dragon Lies adrift in dreams Chasing knights And winning fights Because you always win in dreams