Don’t Call Me A Flower

I am not a flower.

My value does not lie in my beauty. I do not wither when plucked from my home. My roots are not shallow and delicate.

I am a tree. I am strong, durable, a pivotal force. My roots extend deep into the earth, twisting and twirling just as my history does. My past has helped me grow powerful and tall, the queen of my forest. I may shed my leaves each season and become bare and vulnerable, but don’t fret. I will revive, stronger and more beautiful than before. Please, pick off my bark, try and chop me down.

I may not fill vases, but I can start fires. I can burn and I can scream.

So please, don’t call me a flower. Don’t diminish me to a fragile, pretty piece of earth. I am a tree. I am astounding and noble and engaging. Life courses through my veins and futures begin where my leaves fall.


Today I Will Start to Heal

Today, I will start to heal.

Today, I will turn my face towards the sun and embrace its warmth, bright and burning with passion

Today, I will still think of you, your soft lips and your wicked arms

That entangled me, holding me hostage in your care


But today, I will not cry.

I will not succumb to the wretched jolts in my stomach, those that climax into sobs

I will not dream of your body in pinky-white hues



Today, I will start to heal.

Today, I will think of you in simple black and white

Just as you were my everything and nothing all at once

Today, I will honor the wretched jolts in my stomach, those that climaxed into sobs

The sobs that you tempted

Today, I will remember the times I set myself on fire just so you could feel warm

Or the times I contorted myself into knots so that I could fit into your pocket,

Diminishing my magnitude to be at your slight, beautiful size.


Today, I will remember the darkness that poisoned my spirit

That dark cloud of smoke you drove into my being, greedily engulfing and shielding my light


Today, I will start to heal.

Today, I am generating my own warmth.

Today, I am the sun. I am whole and I am bright and I am burning with passion.
Today, I am the center of my own universe.


Tomorrow, I will continue to heal.

Today I got rid of the dress.

I didn’t burn it. I didn’t rip it to shreds. I didn’t spit on it.

I simply tossed it aside with all the other withering pieces of fabric I decided to part with today.

Just as you tossed me aside time and time again.

With the disposal of this dress, I am cleansing myself from the unwavering control over me you’ve spoiled yourself with these past three years.

Three years. Three years of my life devoted to a boy who couldn’t spare me three minutes of his time.

When I throw out this dress, I am also throwing away your handprint that has stayed like a ghost on my shoulder all this time. I am throwing away all the faulty “I love you”s and broken claims of devotion.

I am throwing away that horrible time that was supposed to be the best day of my life. The day you instructed me to wear the dress so that you could take it off of me. The day, representative of so many others when I so easily let you control me because I thought you had a right to. I thought that’s what love meant.

I am throwing away the night we shared 3 years later. Once again you had requested that I wear the dress. But this time I didn’t give you the satisfaction.

And once more, you tossed me aside.

I am throwing away the dress that has been stationed in my closet for all these years. A dress that once represented beauty and hope, but later carried so many treacherous memories I couldn’t part with until now.

I am parting with the constant buzz of your voice in my head, just as my dress has remained a constant option in my closet.

I am parting with the bad dreams and the panic attacks.

I am parting with you.

So goodbye to the dress, goodbye to your disgusting rule over me, and goodbye to a closed chapter of my life.