Trying (Part Two)


I forget the mental math that I once knew, for now I’m in a relationship, and my calculator does my work for me. Yes 2+2= 4, this I know deep down, but I plug it into my smart device anyway, just to make sure. But relying so much on this other brain has its consequences, for my mental math is depleting. What’s 12 x 12? Do I love my brown eyes because I see them in the mirror, or because he whispered that he loved my caramel irises while we were in bed last night? He says I’m beautiful without the makeup, but is there more to the story? He pushes my hair behind my ear and says even my mascara is too much, his reasoning just doesn’t add up. I put on makeup for me, add to my face a bit of purples and blues. Who made him the professor? What gives him the right to decide the hues I wish to use? He makes me question my voice, sometimes I don’t even know it’s there. Because he keeps talking, so I just sit back, mouth shut and stare. His lips are moving, but I tune it out. Being next to him is like math class, I just can’t figure him out.

I'll keep this description short and sweet. I hate math, and I hate when people try to control me based on their ideals. So...this poem was formed, based on these two annoyances that I have dealt with throughout my life. Don't let people decide who you are. Mama taught me best, she always told me to stay true. Stay true to you are, and to who you want to be. Change because YOU want to, not for anyone else.


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