Permission

Authenticity,

To me,

A four letter word.

What does it mean to live in spotlight?

The sun at your back,

on your face,

on your toes?

Warmth.

Loving the parts hidden in darkness begging to be free.

So you free them.

Let them roam wild, however that tastes.

Authentics.

Dress themselves in truth.

Red lipstick girls cloaked in cheetah print

Glide down the street with the secrets of the world in their pocket.

Like their words are made of diamonds.

Authentics.

I spurned them out of jealousy.

Because I couldn't hear the girl in the pit of my stomach screaming

Her metal cup running along the iron bars.

Her cell self made.

Clank.

Clank.

Clank.

My name said with disappointment.

The message always,

"You're too much."

"You have too many feelings."

"When you express them it embarrasses me."

And I ate their embarrassment.

Every last bite until my truth drown in it.

Until all that was left was a set of lungs unable to take a breath.

I am not apologies.

I will not apologize.

For this body that takes up space.

For this voice that takes up sound.

For all the power and strength my words carry

And can carry

And will carry.

As I think them outloud

Feel them outloud

Write them outloud.

I am the girl in red lipstick cloaked in cheetah print.

With words made of diamonds.

One of the authentics.

Room for us all to shine.