I am a spine furtively fortified

By growing towards the sun

Every morning as the fog dissipates

I play the harp in my diaphragm

In a garden of fearless future plans

In reality, it’s just my apartment

Brimming with thriving houseplants

Now that I’ve learned

To check for water in the soil

Before blindly pouring more in.

I am self-designed durability,

Unpicked skin. Untorn cuticles.

I traded the safety of self-doubt for a new adventure,

Knowing trust lives in my walking stick spine.

I am ideas blooming

In lightbulb buns of expansive curls.

Thoughts and images spilled on paper.

An unfinished puzzle,

Is an obscured masterpiece.

I am a clearing haze.

My mind reflects my environment,

Same as the ocean with the sky.

I am loving boundaries, like

“I prefer not to be swallowed whole.”

When structure gets tired,

I take breaks to dance to car horns.

I am fluent in coping mechanisms.

Master of quick pivots,

Queen of sidestepping wrecking balls.

Preferring creative strategies

For removing the abandoned structures

Of the things I used to believe.