Cat Eyes and Lippy

A place for my girl thoughts and poetry

Elevator Shoes

They keep me even
And I am scared to be uneven
Because bumps and patches of rough ground
Often result in falls
Falls that break my foot falls
And leave me bleeding
And I have bled too many times
And I know that some days are hills
Some days are plains
Often they are in-between
So I carve out spaces for myself
But you can’t live your life in holes
Or on elevator shoes
It’s why I’m loosening my grip
Day by day I am
Loosening my grip
And learning how to float

Being a Coward While Falling in Love

I am forgetful and anxious
And slow and too fast
And sometimes I move without thinking
But often I think way too much
And I forget to spellcheck my text messages
And I think thoughts only in my head
But you love me
You told me
You love me
Not despite but because
And I know that I said it first
But it fell from your mouth
With such abandon
That I had no choice but to believe it
And you wear your shirts inside out
And you touch me with the lights on
And you won’t shave those two hairs
That grow out of line
And you wear pants in the summer
And I don’t love you despite
I love you because
I will always love you because

When I have a daughter

When I told my mother I wanted to be like Samantha Wright she scrunched her nose so hard I feared it would stay like that. She is too muscular for my mothers taste unfeminine is what she meant. Well this heated my face for reasons I could not explain at the time but know clearly now.
Samantha Wright. The beautiful pixie like goddess that lifts like a badass. What was wrong with her shape? “Too muscular, unfeminine” remained burned in my skull despite what I knew to be true.

When I told my mother I wanted to cut my hair short above the ears she threw me a sour face. Short hair will not suit my face for my head is too small, I will miss my long hair that will most likely grow back in a matter of months.
Short hair like Halle Berry like a million other beautiful women with amazing bone structure and features unburdened by a sheath of hair. I am reminded every day by complete strangers and friends alike that I will regret a decision I spent all my life making, then unmaking for the opinion of others. My whole life my hair has been attached not to my scalp but to my self worth. Cutting it off means a lot more than a hair cut yet I am constantly told I will miss a part of me that has literally no practical function.

When I told my mother that I wanted tattoos I wanted a piercing in the middle of my nose her lips shrunk into a line. Not in her house, that is a mistake, how will I obtain a job. Her response was anger instead of the fear that she felt. For one cannot survive when living so far out of the box.
Beautiful artwork, expression of self is what I wanted. To learn how to love myself without an overcast of others opinions raining on me like doubt. A career that would suit who I am and because life is not perfect, practical placement of such self expression. I am well aware of the burden of being ones self. I am willing to take on the challenge.

All my life I have been hammered into shape to suit the needs and comforts of others. When told what my decisions will make me I often shy away from the girl in my heart.

When I have a daughter I will tell her to be strong. Muscles and breasts do not define your womanhood nature does. I will not prune her ideas like a tree. I will let them flourish leave her limbs strong and outstretched.

When I have a daughter I will help her do her hair but remind her that locks past her ears is not what makes her beautiful. Waist length waves will not prove she’s a girl. I will begin with a girl and turn her into a woman from the inside out.

When I have a daughter I will tell her to experiment. Cut your hair short, paint your lips fire engine red. Express yourself within reason, please think before you act. But remember that individuality is not synonymous with rebellion.
Follow paths untred by those who have gone before you. Womanhood is not a map it is a destination.

Fixing what wasn’t broke

My whole life has always been just a little wrong
The worst kind of wrong
The type that only takes place
In your head
So while the rest of the world
Was seeing forests of green
All I saw were forest fires
Tufts of invisible smoke
That left me suffocating
Straining every breath
And I was selfish with my pain
I kept it all for myself
So long that when I tried to let it free
It came crawling back
With its tail between its legs
Like a domesticated animal
So I had to retrain myself
Learn that what I mistook for bravery
Was actually cowardice
That feigning strength
Was not winning me any battles
That I was not living
I was merely existing
Draining my energy
Just to keep my head
Above water
I learned that inside of bravery
Lives fear
A beast that is tamed
By the knowledge that
Things could get better
So I let things get better
Not all at once
I struggled and fought
I made lists
I met goals
I stretched my limbs far
And learned that I was flexible
Bending did not always mean breaking
Wounds could heal
I quit treading water
And learned to swim
And my nightmares still exist
Sometimes I reach past my rope
But nothing is good all of the time
I learned to be content

Learning how to love and love again

We as humans
In our nature we are forgetful
We forget where we came from
And how long it took us to get here
We forget how painful and scarring it was
And blindly opt for it again
We forget that we have lost
Something so grand that it has left
Canyons in our chests
But surprisingly
We never forget
How to love
How to tear our chests open
And encompass someone else’s heart
So entirely, so fully
That it breaks our bones
I can hear them splintering
Like the agonizing screams
That escape from our lips
But it comes with the territory
Breaking comes with the territory
We stretch and contort
We twist and wrap ourselves
Around our lovers
Like our organs are expendable
We bruise and we snap and
We puncture ourselves
Like our lives depend on these growing fissures
These declarations of love
And when it is over
When we are stomped flat
And left for dead
What do we do
We rise
Like a Phoenix from
Charred photographs and memories
Left to burn
We grow new skin and relearn to walk
On shaky legs and love on shaky hearts
We stretch and we grow
And sometimes we are not able to reach
As far as we once could
But somehow
We always bury what we’ve
Left behind
And being the contortionists that we are
We are always willing
To break again
For just the right heart

Kissing: A brief history

My first kiss
Was a mild innocent thing
A reluctant thing
That set off alarms in the back of my throat
It took me hours to drain the red
From my cheeks
Boy number two was passionate
With soft wet lips and tender hands
That brought the burn back to my cheeks
He sidled with passion I had not yet known
Boy three was afraid to use his tongue
He controlled our mouths
The way your mother throws an arm over you in the car upon stopping short
Like protection that bruised your chest
He was bold and unapologetic
He always left me sorry
Even when I’d done nothing wrong
Boy four was less important
But more free like letting the rain wreck your freshly styled hair with abandon
Rushed and clunky and smile inducing
Boy five left me chapped and raw
Boy six was like car rides in the front seat of your best friends new car
Warm and comforting and confident
I sunk my teeth into him like he was going somewhere
He never was
Boy six I don’t remember
Boy seven not important
If I knew better I would have kissed less boys
Because every time that I gifted my lips away
A piece of me went missing
It chipped away at my insides like vandalizing a work of art
By the time I reached your lips
Mine were broken and guarded
You didn’t touch my mouth
Until the third date
When you slipped a warm kiss between my lips without missing a beat
Under the lights of new beginnings
I started my own
From that moment on
I held your hand tighter
Kissed your lips softer
Kept your gaze longer
I no longer settled for the leechy kisses
Delivered to me from boys
With chisels for tongues

Daydreaming in Reality

I want to drink box wine with you
On a Tuesday night with the lights on
And I know that doesn’t sound sexy
But just looking at you turns me on
An embarrassing amount
I want to slide on wooden floors
With only socks on
Straight into your arms
And not care if they get dusty
Because you are worth every minuscule
Hair and piece of dead skin
Sticking to the fibers
I want to wake up with nighttime sweatiness and morning’s breath
Tangled in starry hair
Next to you
And I know that it doesn’t sound glamorous
But I do not care
Because you are stuck to me
Like gum in hair
Like hot on rice
Like you and I
Soon people will say
Like you and I

Sore Throat

I laugh once
Because you are a tickle in my throat
Uncomfortable like a cough drop
I have swallowed too early
You are making me gag
Today I witnessed you
From the corner of my eye
And I laugh once
I could sense your needy fear from here
I let it be known that
I was disgusted

Loving you is contradiction

You kiss my cheeks and rub my beauty off
Then tell me that I am beautiful
If I didn’t know better
I wouldn’t believe you
If I didn’t know better
I would throw you away
But here you stay
With all of your bells and whistles
Sparkling like shackles
In the moonlight
You tell me all that I’ve wanted to hear
Like a boy I have known before
But I take it as truth because you told me
I take it as truth because one time you kissed me
And I questioned the existence
Of this reality
And that of a dream world

A third grade student gave me his number today. I am twenty years old.