Monarch of her own mind
she only does what she wants to,
never caving to the expectations of the world.
No subject is too intimidating,
and she sat on the roof of her apartment
looking into all that we avoided.
Like the rest of us she lived under
the sun, but for some reason,
it seemed more like it lived above her.
Her shadow was always the cleanest cut
like she could detach it from herself at any moment.
This isn’t something that’s easy to explain.
Healing is simply setting something right,
it is a process not an instantaneous gift.
It’s something to be grateful for like
the way the waves help sculpt the shore.
It’s there for her to just ignore, or set in
motion like the breaking in her heart.
Monarch
Teleporting Typewriter 