Meanwhile, I Keep Dancing

Day 26: Like I'm feeling a bit raw today. Unhappy, unsure, sick, tired. The rose  colored glasses are off ladies! Taken from I Hope You Dance Poetry Journal of Ashlen Hodge, from the poem Why Do I Like You? My parents gave me journals to write down my world express with blood ink my heart on the page my parents are my biggest fan and tells me often I am blessed and it destresses me some to see these words all lean one way to crushes or lovers of bygone days teenage angst all misspelled out even as I grew, my poetry did not even NOW I give them this space Oh how they alter me all those men oh how through their filters I found my edges and textures blown out by the over exposure of these boys And I am angry I am angry that my view of those women that came before me is seen through their eyes cold hearted bitches, every one  portrayed and to think I join their ranks I am cast as the witch the cruel one...

Day 3: Montanto Taken from The Globe Illustrated Much Ado About Nothing, p. 696. Apparently this is a term borrowed from the Italian schools of fencing, specifically a thrust. My Move Forward, parry thrust thrust retreat  we play this game of give and take messager or text the munstrum of our desire hoping that our last words were vocative enough to elicit more wish that the words we conjure will not fall into the cracks of the internet Void I fight my culture that tells me I should not make the first move I banish shame as I type out a message, not too pushy, not too much  just enough to catch your eye watch my rapier wit fly Like Beatrice who uses words to create a wall, to be herself and hold off the pain of expectation  I want to love but at this point in my life  will fight for my heart if you want it you must match me wit to wit skill to skill ...