1/31/26
I wish I was brave enough to be myself
without cringing at my excitement or
the oversharing of my unrealized dreams.
I wish to hold feelings of my own
the space to feel safe in my unrest.
I wish I had bookish friends
Writing friends whom we could share poetry
swapping translations of our own romanticized history.
How gentle of a friendship one could have if pen paled
in cryptic cursive writing.
Our own or that of others we aspire to be like.












