My Own Bohemia

woke up early this morning and nothing has tasted better than that cinnamon toast crunch that i shoved in my mouth fresh outta the bag. i am a beautifully barbaric breakfast eater and i really don’t give a shit if it’s attractive or not. yesterday i was moody and quiet and you kept turning down the music to ask me what was wrong. and i met your questions with silence because lately there have been so many voices in my head i don’t know how to tell you how i feel without screaming. so i keep my mouth shut. and stare out the window at vintage green cars with big ass rims and my confused refection in the side mirror. we pulled into Qudoba and you admitted that your scared i’ll stop loving you in winter. when it gets cold and i cover all this insecurity up with chinese print sweaters and rainbow scarves. when we trade lemonade for apple cider and start filling our stomaches with candy corn and caramel apples. your scared that i’ll disappear with the summer and break you before snow falls like she did. your scared in my silence because I’m usually so full of words and songs and stories but don’t worry baby. summer’s kissing us goodbye and we could tell by the frost on your windows this morning but i’m not going anywhere. i still love you when it’s cold out. 

yesterday i spent hours photoshopping my heart out. It was so easy to make my eyes look even bluer. To make my skin flawless and teethe shine. To transform the girl behind the camera lens into a rosary wearing model with pouty lips and oversized sunglasses from New York. No wonder all those stars look so gorgeous. They are perfectly fake and yet we devote our lives and our bodies and our smiles to covering up our flaws so we can look like something that might touch if you break it. A beauty so fake it’s fragile. I think I might just be done lusting over these magazine divas. Their knowing grins are lies and behind those eyes they are just the same as me. 

While we laid on your couch and watched a terror flick about a prom covered in blood you told me to look at you. So i did, i peered up at your brown eyes from my comfortably paradise my head found on your chest and you told me that I have so many smiles. I laughed and you said “there’s one right there,”

i wonder which one’s your favorite. 

I think I’m going to have to start smiling more often. After all, this world is full of too much beautiful chaos to spend my days lost in my head. Living is better. Living with a Smile.