I’m thinking about the one

sitting across from me in the mirror.

“What about her?”

is what I ask myself, soft but steady.


When will I choose me

instead of aching to be chosen?

I am already chosen 

by the Most High.

By God.

By the One who saw me before I saw myself.

Savior of my story.

Yet I’ve spent years

crucifying my joy,

my brilliance,

my wealth,

my mental health 

on altars built for vampires.


They drank me dry.

Sipped the light from my laughter,

drained the bloom from my blooming,

and then snarled

when there was no more to take.


But I am free now,

delivered from Dracula.

And I sit in my mirror,

not mourning, but asking:

“Where do we go from here?”


We thrive.


I desire to be known,

not consumed.

To be studied like scripture,

like jazz,

like weathered spines of books

held dearly in quiet rooms.


Like…did you know

my favorite color is yellow?

I love oxtail and beef patties.

My love language is crawfish.

I am fluent in nuance,

and I speak French 

but I say the most with my silence.

I cry during sad movies.

I scream during jump scares.

I love coffee in the morning,

like a ritual.

I am my mother’s daughter,

and my father’s reflection.

I am Mrs. Beloved,

longing to Be Loved.

I am Miss Do Too Much,

giver of too many chances.

I am a mind reader,

a nurturer of soul and spirit.


I barely passed my driver’s test at 18.

I’ve never ridden a roller coaster.

Never been to Six Flags.


There is so much to explore of me.

So much worth discovering.

So much joy beyond the edges

of use.

Of leaving.


So if you come,

Come to stay.

Come to learn.

Come to see.


Because I am not a pit stop along your journey.

I am a world of my own.