I am a living star figure
I shine brighter than the sun, better than diamonds and I got all the confirmation when the chickens sat to stare at me.
I live in rainbows, on occasion but don't be fooled, I stand lucid as faze, lucent as water, a glassy glitz that cannot hold colors. I don't own one because I am one.
There are days I question the qualities of math, it seems no one drew figures of how my age correlates to be unrelated to my figure. Days where I feared they'd come after me “how old are you?”
Oh, I wasn't complaining at all, well off I looked 7-years younger than my age, speaking of.
I remembered when I was 20, I am flirting to the guy I am obsessed with, same age as I am, I used to joke around that I am 15, still young
Yet during nights alone I find myself flirting with mirrors and begin to dance slow, undressing every corner I touch, proceeding to leave the inhibition to touch myself.
I moan things I cannot moan to just anyone, touching, caressing myself.
What it felt like to be touched, to be kissed in deep suffocation where I can no longer breathe on my own.
How does it feel to be showered by someone else’s taste, to be sloppy, to be careless, to be tasted and to be eaten.
What it felt like to be enveloped by somebody else’s body, somebody’s warmth and softness.
How is it like to feel weak with somebody else’s brace yet free, calling every curse I could hear alone with someone in closed doors.
My friends, the closest, told me I was innocent as fruit, and it brought sirens around before I cut the shit off. I no longer consider them as my closest.
I am open, very open to being thought of as a childlike innocent one.
I do, I act one, it became my natural inclination to live on this open field.
Yet easily perceived as naivety
I can't blame them, they have not recognized being the naive one.
My naivety that taught silent discussions was rooted from this lost timeline of revival and I've gained the karma of being obedient, rigid, set in ways, unforbidden, collected and a follower.
After touching the aroma of naive blues, I unite with my child self once again,
I was slapped on by reality to meet her, to remember the once forgotten, caged, abandoned and ashamed of.
I embraced the exaggeration of my nature, the crazy sweet duality and was faced with lists of forbid nature, I became notorious in their world
Cursed on their heads, looked down upon, a crime to embody a childlike energy when you've gained enough experience, with your peaking ages.
Though, only the energy screams, it was still considered-perceived as experience and to tell you a confession fact, it was from the faces with no mirrors that tell this tale.
I can't recall how many times I hangout in front of the mirror, vibing and chilling, it became lasting for every moment.
How many faces she had seen, how many embodiments she had met, how many confessions she discovered, how many expressions she was surprised with, and how many feelings she had encountered, be kept, be in secret.
Each of them are retreats from her received treatment in this world trip of “grow up, you're not a child anymore, act in your age.”
I am here in silent defiance “I don't want to be my naive self anymore, not anymore.” laughing the irony off.
Somehow with this daily dose of vacation, she was reminded that showing isn't a crime.
Posted on @deintywoodtales (dada on tumblr)
Deinty Woodtales © Amanda A.M, 2023