She was not just "asking for it"
Her skirt showing her long limbs
She is not one to submit
Or to give up when told to quit

She will not stand for your catcall
For your whistle and "hey there, doll"
You should not be appalled
Because she really can rule it all

She is fierce and she is true
She's neither higher nor lower, but she is equal to you
Her body is not just something you can tear down and *****
So, pack your things and say adieu

She is feminine
As well as pure adrenaline
Cease to examine this "specimen"
And become a true gentleman

We may have a past,
But "stop" means just that.

I shouldn't have to pull your hands away.
Don't you dare ask me if we're okay.

You may have a hard exterior,
But my body is not inferior.

I am a push-over...
But a four-leaf clover.

And I will not stand
For disobedient hands.

Yes, your actions wound me
But I will not command you to do a thing

Love is a choice
And within that choice is more decision

Because love does not command of another
It prefers blind hope

Blind hope, which fails every so often
But I choose to love you through my aching

The pain you inflict is only temporary
My hurt feelings will scab over

Love is choice, after choice, after choice
And patience – a whole lot of patience

My porcelain skin is no match
For the velvety brown of yours
Your soft chocolate eyes are lovelier
While my greens are merely cold

And I should know better than to refuse
To wipe my face on the floor
I should be more of a lady (or a nun)
If I'm to be all you're asking for

You reference the way I was raised
A single mother and an only daughter
And you're sure that I will lead astray
Your potential grandsons and granddaughters

Know that your son is all
The good you exclaim him to be
But he sees the light in these witch's eyes
Where you see death and greed

I now understand that I will never
Be righteous enough in your sight
And it is because of your background
That you accuse and criticize

You will always be his mother
Who cares for him nonetheless
But I will stay his lover
Even while I don't pass your test

March feels wintry
On the first day of spring
I am an abductee.

Hades' hunger for sexuality
His underworld queen
Pomegranate seeds

When spring isn't spring
And the grass isn't green
I am Persephone

An era of feminism,
Which should never be questioned.
Empowering women
To strive, and strive again.

We speak of desexualization.
To free the ******,
Unveil carnal harassment,
And speak our minds.

But we can be sightless
Toward the sexualization of man.
The way we view testosterone
As broad shoulders and shirtlessness.

Do not sift through my words!
I believe in the power feminism.
But I am disappointed
With the sexualization of man.

We're determined to trump the blurred *****...
Yet drool over a man in Calvin Klein.
We frown upon the "Perfect Body" campaign...
But applaud a "built" man.

I wish for bodies to be just that:
Bodies.
For sexualized men and women
To be more than carved features.

Late last night I had an epiphany. It could have been the cereal or the Siberia-like weather talking, but I had a newfound realization. It really was late. Late nights are great for overanalyzing. I could have been doing just that. Yet, this morning, I was reminded of my revelation.

You and I live in a generation full of selfishness. Narcissism in relationships, in particular.

That was it. That was my epiphany. Maybe I'm just late coming into the game. Maybe everyone around me made this connection before. But I hadn't.

I am patient. I like to think it's a positive quality of my personality. But, my patience tends to roll over into being a push-over. And all of the men I have been with treated me as such. Many of them used me for their selfish advantages.

Before I start ranting on and on and give you the backstory of each of my relationships, I want you to know that I'm focusing on what ended the relationship, or what caused the downfall. It was selfishness.

But, it wasn't outright selfishness. It was narcism in disguise.

Every "break up" conversation from his side started off with an "I'm sorry". Then, he would give me a bunch of half-hearted reasons as to why things weren't working out. Finally, he would end with an "I'm doing this for me."

Don't get me wrong, I'm all about being there for yourself. Sometimes, we need to find out who we are as a person. That exploration can be muddled when you're pursuing something new.

But as I was letting the cereal digest and watching the ice form on my windows, I finally realized it. Many men of this generation are selfish. Selfish to the point of self-sabotage.

Within the last year, I've briefly and not-so-briefly dated three men. These were their break-up lines:

Man #1. "This is the year I start getting into my major. I feel like I need to figure myself out. I'm doing this for me. I need this."

Man #2. "I don't know what I was thinking. I shouldn't have tried to get into a relationship with someone right before I was headed back to school. I need to do this for me. I need to be able to figure myself out."

Man #3. "I've always felt trapped in Minnesota. I need to go to Arizona for me. I don't have time for you. I can't focus on a relationship right now. I need to focus on my life, my job, and my schooling, for me."

You might be reading this and thinking that I'm great at whining. I'm just a girl who's bitter, burnt out, or hurt over what once was. You might be thinking that I choose all the wrong guys; that I'm prone to "bad guys". But I'm none of those things.

All three of these men were different. All three came from different backgrounds, different states, were various ages, had various personalities, and different interests. Man #1 was shy to the nth degree. Man #3 was extremely outgoing. Man #2 was well-off. Man #3 worked a minimum-wage job and scraped by. Man #1 was an athlete at heart. Man #3 loved metal and Netflix. Every man was different... yet they all had one similar commodity.

They were selfish.

Each one asked himself, "what am I getting out of this? What's in it for me?"

Maybe I was intimate with them. Maybe I wasn't. Maybe I was the one with the car or the finances. Maybe I wasn't. The situations were different in each of the three relationships. So, I have a feeling that none of these factors influenced each man's decision.

They were selfish. That's the only way I can pinpoint the end of each relationship down.

I'm not saying that all men are dogs. I'm not even saying "To hell with men!" Although, a part of me understands that relationships weren't meant to be viewed with this mentality. The whole, "what's in it for me?" forefront is the exact opposite of what a relationship should be.

And that's where my conclusion stops. I've finally realized that many men of this age are egocentric... but I don't know what to do about it. I now know what I don't want in a relationship. Now, I can see the red flags clearly. But I'm unsure of where things are headed.

What I do know is that I won't settle for selfishness. I won't settle for a man who wants to know what he can "get" out of a relationship. I won't settle for a man who puts half of his heart into something and keeps the other half for himself.

I will wait for someone who is willing to ask himself what he can do for me... not what I can do for him. I will wait for someone who will put all of himself into a relationship. I will wait for someone who will leave his selfish mentality behind and put me first. I will wait.

Sure, no man is perfect. You might be thinking that I've put my standards too high. But I deserve high standards. I deserve to be looked at as rare, beautiful, and treasured. I wasn't meant to be cast to the side for selfish reasons; for "finding myself" or "doing this for me".

I was meant for more, and I won't settle for anything less.

Decisions are kind of a funny concept. Some people believe that everything happens for a reason. Others believe that each decision has a domino effect on other parts of life. Have you heard of the butterfly effect? This idea believes that every decision leads to various outcomes, and that there are multiple paths a person can take. I like to agree with this statement.

Decisions are what make a person. At least, they're what show a person's character...

I observe ordinary character on a regular basis. I work at a liquor store in a town of roughly three-thousand people. I know the regulars by name, and I can tell who's had a rough day or who is excited for the weekend by what they purchase. I know when Barb is furious at her husband because she buys two liters of *** and the smokes he hates. I can tell when Dave is on good terms with his fiance because he skips the Fireball and heads straight for his 24-pack. Bob... is really just Bob. He comes in and buys a liter of coke, a liter of Bacardi, and a pack of Marlboro reds every day at 4:30 on the dot. Each of these regular's decisions display part of their character. Many of their purchases can be influenced by their emotions... but what part of life isn't?

You're probably wondering when I'm going to get to my point. That'll be a couple hundred words further. You of all people know how great I am at ranting.

How is my minimum-wage job connected to decisions and character? That's a good question. Each decision leads to a specific outcome. These decisions are based on the character of a customer. Their character is displayed in their decisions at my dead-end job. Anyway, back to your decisions.

Decision Making
Relationships are basically a hurdle of decisions. Deciding how to sleep together. Deciding the best way to kiss despite the height difference. Deciding what to say when meeting the in-laws. Deciding when to say "I love you". It's decision after decision after decision.

I like to think that each decision can lead to various outcomes. For example, if I would have never lost my virginity to a one-night-stand and cried about it to the girl living across from me, I would have never met you. So, if I waited to take off my clothes or if I cried about it to my roommate instead, this last year would have gone a lot differently.

I'm beginning to work my way to your decisions. First, let me state that you were the most indecisive person I have ever met. You were passive. You were lukewarm. You were flat. You were only certain on one thing: your admiration for college basketball.

I have to admit that you were decisive on your verdict to be with me... for a time. I guess I have to give you a little credit. You weren't all bad. There was a lot of good in you. But, there was a lot of rottenness underneath your tall, dark, and handsome physique.

The Beginning of the End
You decided to avoid a decision from the very beginning. Sure, it was me that you wanted. I mean, I was great. I still am. I may be biased, but I don't care. You wanted me... but you didn't want the price-tag I came with.

What did I tell you from the beginning? Let me refresh your memory. We were sitting on a lime green couch in the lobby of our college. It was close to midnight and I was exhausted but didn't want to be without you. I told you that I expected you to:

1. Be honest.
2. Be faithful.
3. Pursue me.
4. Make me a priority.

I didn't ask for much. I was searching for... Oh, I don't know, a relationship that sounded pretty standard in my terms. I wanted something serious, but that doesn't mean that I wasn't looking for fun or liveliness. These requests were normal, in my mind.

I then asked you if you would choose me over your mother. I knew you were close to her... and I hadn't met her yet. Also, for some reason, I already had a feeling that she despised the thought of me, and the idea of her little man bringing a girl home... (God forbid she have a brain on her head).

I didn't want to be tantalizing. I believe I am gentle in nature. But, if everything worked out, I wished to be the number one woman in your life... not your mother. I restated my question after a few beats and you continued to ponder the thought. After a few seconds you told me, "No, probably not. But I might change. I want you." That should have stopped me in my tracks.

But it didn't. We were together for about a year since that night. We kept things quiet for a few months before becoming "official" or whatever. Your decision or avoidance should have sent me running... and it did... to you.

I think part of myself knew that I deserved better. Also, part of myself believed that there was beauty in maltreatment. But, I saw potential in you. You were my best friend.

You were... I was in love with you.

I was willing to fight for us. I was willing to fight for you. I was willing to battle it out... and I saw myself coming out victorious, like the warrior I truly am... but, you were a battle lost from the very beginning.

Whatever "Fighting for Me" Looked like to You
Things got worse when confusion arose between your mother and I. She thought I was sleeping with you (when I wasn't). There was a lot of yelling... most of it was in Spanish. I was scared. I was petrified. She believed I was ******* up her perfect son. This put us on unsteady ground.

This was also the first time I saw you cry.

It was a battle between what she wanted and what I wanted. She wanted me out of the picture. I wanted you to stand up for me, and to stand up for us.

You chose me. This would be the one and only time I came out as the number one priority. I believe this was because you were over three hundred miles away from her piercing eyes and thin lips. It was easy to put us first when she wasn't there to "knock some sense" into her son.

Your mother didn't speak to you for months. She was furious. She was angry. Her dislike toward me grew with every passing day.

Letting the Bruises Heal
For the next six months, things seemed to get better. We fought but made up. We talked of the future while understanding that we were still young. We grew as lovers and as friends. We made promises and kept them.

But, the semester was ending. The snow was gone and the grass was nowhere near green. Three months of separation were just around the corner and I knew of the trials to come. I also knew that if we could make it through the summer, that we could last. That is, if we could make it with your bitter mother by your side.

Seperation Leads To...
Three months of fifteen minute phone calls every once in a while dragged on. I was patient with you. We were both working our tails off. I was taking summer classes. You spent any and all of your extra time off working for your dad or training for soccer preseason. Still, I was patient.

We saw each other twice during the summer. Those days were some of my happiest within this past year. Distance really does make the heart grow fonder. Those first moments of seeing you were like revelations. All of the time away made sense. The eight hour drive to see you made sense. We made sense.

It was during your stay at my house when I realized I didn't want to be with anyone else. Ever. It was the first time you told me you were in love with me. I felt the same. We didn't just love one another, we were in love.

It was during my stay at your house, a few months later, when I realized things were heading south.

Temptation
We fought. We fought a lot during the month before I drove to Wisconsin. It was almost daily. Somehow we made up... somehow. You were stressed and I was anxious. I was anxious and afraid.

But, I came down to see you, nonetheless. Most moments, I believed we were healed. We could conquer anything. Others... I knew your mind was elsewhere.

Although, when we said goodbye, I believed we were true. You made me a promise I was sure you would keep. Our goodbye was the second time I would see you cry.

Looking back, I think I know why. You were tempted. You were more than tempted.

Decisions and Indecisiveness
The day after I got back home, you said you "wanted to take your promise back".

Two days after that, you left home to go to a camp I knew nothing about. You "couldn't take your phone" but I knew better than that.

We went an entire week without talking. And I knew something was wrong. I had never felt so sick in my life.

You eventually returned home from camp. But, it took you two days to respond to me. Once you finally called me, you told me you "couldn't do this right now". Then you hung up. That's when I knew it was over.

I was furious. I was jealous. You were tagged in pictures on social media with a few girls in particular.

1. Phones were allowed.
2. You were awfully close to one girl.
3. You were lying through your teeth.

We met up on campus a few days later. I had a list of questions that just about vanished into thin air when I saw you. You were ruggedly handsome... And I was still in love with you.

You greeted me with a hug. I just about cried.

You explained to me that your parents gave you an ultimatum. It was me or college. Stay with me, and college was out of the funds for you. Break things off with me, and college would be paid for. You told me you chose college.

You explained how you "needed to do this for yourself".

You also told me you didn't love me anymore.

You decided against me.

The Entire Truth
I was confused. I was heartbroken. Nothing made sense. It was like you gave me a puzzle that was missing more than half of the pieces. I spent the next month trying put the thing together. I came up with one single solution... but I didn't want to believe it.

My hypothesis rang true through a friend. I believed you cheated on me. Yes, I was sure your parents pulled their big levers; but I believed you were hiding information from me. You were.

I can't go into the details because I don't know all of them. In fact, I probably never will. I've ran through every scenario a thousand times in my head, and I still come up short.

All I know are your decisions. Your decisions show your character. Your character is flawed. Your decisions broke a large part of me. I am still attempting to put myself back together.

Out of all of your indecision, out of months of tug-of-war, you were so decisive on leaving. You were set on cheating. If anything, I wish I could ask you why.

Why did I always seem to come up short? Why wasn't I good enough for you? Why did you choose money, college, and your family over me? Why did you choose her over me?

So many questions I will never get closure on.

Deciding to Decide
I have moved on... for the most part. There are still days (like today) when I miss you more than anything. But, I am stronger. I am certain that I was good enough for you, even if you couldn't see it. I am also certain that you were the first person I was truly meant to be with.

Remember when I mentioned the butterfly effect? I know that different decisions lead to various outcomes. We have the choice. We decide where our life goes (or we choose indecision).

Your decisions led to a different life. A life without me.

And I think, as of right now, I'm okay with that.

Standing in forty-degree weather;
Water threatening to change to ice.

Perhaps, the rain will cleanse me,
And I will feel pure.

Maybe their blackened fingerprints
Will fade away from my skin.

The grease from their selfish palms
Leaving without a trace.

If I stand out in the cold showers,
The storm may sanitize my soul.

And maybe,
Just maybe...

I will forget their selfish appetites.

If I wouldn't have lost
My innocence
I wouldn't have met you
And that's something I wouldn't compromise

I fell asleep on the couch the day
You asked me to be your date
Your hands on my knees
The snow in the trees

Your arms around me before break
Inhaling your scent
Before you made sure I understood
All that you meant

His hands are large and strong
I knew this all along
Strong enough to hold me down

Smiles are contagious
His are crooked and malicious
Watching me squirm, crying

My daddy is not safe
I know now because he was taken away
But I thought this form of love was ordinary

I didn't mean to get him in trouble
But I was afraid when his hand was my muzzle
Now everyone looks at me like I'm made of glass

My mom says I can't talk to him
But I just don't get it
He said he wouldn't hurt me

My daddy wears orange
Mom answers his phone call with a look of warning
His clothes are in boxes down in the basement

There's a stack of papers on the counter
That mom's been staring at for the past hour
I think I need to help her with her homework

We make the bed with stains across the mattress
I don't think I can keep up with this practice
I pretend I don't see the guilt in mom's eyes

My mom and I sleep next to each other at night
Because we're both afraid he'll appear in the morning light
Looming over us with his hungry eyes

It grew through him
violently,
relentlessly.
Vines and thorns
weaving throughout his
entirety.
Is this what happens
when pride grasps the heart
and punctures the brain?
He touched with force -
bruised and slit.
turned kisses into slaps,
love to sin.
Stood inches taller,
vines lengthening his limbs.
crawling up his spine,
weaving into his skin.
He finally agreed
with his family:
I wasn't good enough for him.
Pride was like
an infestation.
a twisting ****,
an infection.

You ask why I'm avoiding
Hands which frighten me.
You ask what you did wrong
After touching with self-indulgence.

You bring me back
To when I was nine.

I am a child
Begging... for you to stop.
Pleading;
Pulling large hands away.

But this time,
I'm nineteen.

I feel ***** once again,
And the tears aren't cleansing.
They are a reminder...
Of the innocence I never had.

Silky smooth,
Tender veins,
Numerous petals
Smell sweet.

Beautiful.
Admired.
A spectators gaze,
Floral physique.

Made for my
Enjoyment.
Just as pretty
As He views me.

The flowers -  
Alluring
Yet, I'm lovelier
Than peonies.

Your shirt is still under my bed
Right next to your sleepy bedhead
I file and store these memories
Inside my head, used as a directory

Your blanket is still in a pile on my couch
I never want it to leave my house
It’ll stay put until you come back
Or until your mother shows up for combat

Our secrets are still locked up in my closet
I kept them there, just as I promised
They tend to scratch up the door, sometimes
But what’s mine is yours, and what’s yours is mine

I told the stars how lucky they were
To always have someone to look at

They were never alone
No matter where the earth was in space

I told them how lucky they were
To be associated with beauty

Because no one else is constantly told
How beautiful they are

But I know
Stars explode

And I like to think it's because they can't go on
With all the kind words spoken to them

Or maybe looking at someone but not being able to touch them
Caused the stars too much pain

Some stars become black holes
And I asked a dark star why it had become so

It explained that sometimes life
Makes even the brightest stars bitter

And being so positive for years and years
Had taken its toll

I wondered if the newly born black hole
Had any regrets on choosing the rest of its course

It read my mind and told me that
It wished it would have exploded into something new

Maybe to form new galaxies
Or to create new planets

Instead of ******* the life out of
Everything around it

Carrie, how does your garden grow?

Are the souls of your enemies
Buried beneath your personal cemetery?

The victims on their knees
Begging, beseeching, pleading

Praying to you *and the same God for
Things to be as they were before

With silver bells, Carrie?

Are your nails sharpened to a point,
Itching to break bones at the joint?

To snap my wrists and tie
Them up - your peace of mind

Tortment me, ****** Carrie
Smirk and laugh before you bury

And cockle shells, Carrie?

Are you seen as a pleasurable fantasy?
A mask of terrible daydreams?

Your body caresses the loaded gun
He swears that pain is one with love

You are an instrument of pure torture
Who is viewed as a delicate sculpture

Are your pretty maids in a row?

Are we in a straight line
Waiting to be punished for our crime?

Your foolish prey meet the guillotine
One swift motion - sliced clean

Hail Carrie, the ****** empress,
Queen of deciet, and ***** mistress

You stepped foot out of the car and sauntered over
I was sure I could watch you come home to me everyday
But we only had 94 hours together
Although, I craved for you to stay

We watched through the tale of The Boy Who Lived
(And you dozed through all my favorite parts)
We relived another seven years in the castle and hallows
While it was really only nineteen hours on the couch

Still, time was of the essence
It had been far too long since your hand was in mine
So, I strived to make the most of it
Before you drove back across the state line

It was during those 94 hours
When you whispered all your affection to me
The glow across your face from the television
When you told me you were falling in love with me

Those 94 hours came to an end and you packed up all your things
You placed my hand on your beating heart, sorting out every feeling
Your car then left the driveway just as easily as it came
All of our time spent apart made me realize one commodity

Absence does make the heart grow fonder

I knew she planned on staying.
When she unpacked her belongings.
Mia told me she wasn't playing.
This time, she would cause the falling.

She woke me up the first night,
After he ran away.
Mia's chapped lips whispered our old times,
She reminded me of tooth decay.

For the next few days, Mia was my shadow.
Her doe-eyes trailed my every course.
Waiting patiently for me to plateau,
Before attacking without remorse.

Mia told me she was mending my cuts,
My battered heart, and my sliced legs.
She was making me whole with every hiccup.
He may have left, but she was here to stay.

We held hands throughout the store.
She helped me buy my favorite treats.
Binging together before locking the door.
Purging never tasted so sweet.

Mia held my hair and my pink tongue.
Her fingernails made my throat bleed.
Convinced me secrecy made this fun.
Our kneeling prayers were a mystery.

She wiped my tears with her acidic hands,
And whispered how much she missed me.
Mia uttered how only she would understand
My longing and misery.

This day, almost two decades ago
I was pulled from my mother's belly
Prematurely

My lungs were not fully developed
Yet, I still came out kicking
Living

Today is usually a day
That I take in stride
Pride

But the only person
I want to celebrate with
Reminisce

Has left our love to die
He has thrown us away
Unhappy birthday

They never mentioned
That the smell of aftershave
And toothpaste
Would be triggering.

Forgot to say I was destined
To be what twisted men crave -
My skinny waist,
His slithering.

Cannot sleep on a waterbed.
Fear that the waves will move
Unsteadily,
Irregularly.

Threw away purple bedspread.
Prayed its absence would improve
Sleeping,
Dreaming

I recognize his twins
At work, the store, and on the street.
Unable to breathe.
Petrifying.

Their crooked grins
Calloused hands, tight grips, yellow teeth
Calls me 'sweetie'
Triggering.

I never wished for my feathers
To catch fire
Unsure of who made me
This way

Losing my brilliance was never
My desire
My finale was
Excruciating

Someone once told me
That fire heals wounds
"To cauterize is to
Stop the bleeding"

This new discovery
Completely consumed.
Becoming anew
Was intriguing

The time then came
For the heat and the haze
These moments both petrifying  
And exhilarating

I touched the dark
Before I embarked
Forming from embers while I
Remembered

I am reborn

Choose your words carefully, now
Stick a coffee filter
Between your mind and mouth
Please try to control what comes out

Hold your tongue
Staple that muscle
To the pinks of your gums
Please just do it for my mom

End the R-word
Print it in a million books
And watch the pages burn
Put a stop to the harmful looks

Terminate "*******"
It isn't a synonym for "absurd"
It's not just a filler-word
My cousin is not to be discarded

If I could eliminate
The word I hate
I would cut the letters up
And hide them away from the ones that I love

Dispose of this nasty term
Cut this expression down
Watch this word infest with worms
And let the death be the talk of the town

It is still dark
When driving through the
Morning haze.

On my way to
A job that doesn’t
Feel like “work “.

Thinking of you,
And the way your lips
Fit with mine.

The sky turns pink.
I recall sleeping
Next to you.

The clouds are orange.
Remember my nails
On your back?

Atmosphere bright.
Asking, “What is love,
Exactly?”

The sun blinding.
Blazing I miss yous;
Bright goodbyes.

I’m at work now.
Fatigued; lack of sleep
In my eyes.

Up all night
Since you broke it off
Yesterday.

I’ll brew coffee
For myself; not two
This morning.

The sky is calm -
Ordinary day.
Naked eyes.

I miss you like
You missed the desert.
No surprise.

When she looks you up and down
Like the men you cross paths with on the street
Do not cast your eyes to the floor
Stand tall; despite the heat

When your mother tells you to keep your tiny jeans
In hopes of shedding weight like snakeskin
Cut the denim in strips
And place it all around her kitchen

When she throws your baked goods away
And replaces them with everything sugar-free
Send dozens of cupcakes to her doorstep
Then proceed to eat as a hyperbole

When your mother purchases running shoes and sports bras
Walk around the house in your under-things
Lounge in the bathtub with a bear claw
Do not let her control your way of being

I packed your red t-shirt away;
The last bit I kept of you.

Letting go is hard...
But trying to forget is harder.

I clung to that shirt for months.
It smelled of your skin.

But, when I wore it recently,
It felt wrong.

I was weighed down.
You... weighed me down.

I lifted your heavy t-shirt off my shoulders...
To finally feel free.

I've let go of my false hope
There's no reason to hang on

The thought of giving it another try
Makes me feel nauseous

How'd it feel to kiss another woman?
Was it electrifying?

To have the indecency to snap photos
And save them for "your own eyes"

I loved finding out through a friend of a friend
When I previously asked you face-to-face

I had a feeling this was the reason
It had to end in the first place

You're a pathological liar
Who wants the best of both worlds

Go ahead, quench your desire
Devour that thoughtless girl

It's been three weeks
Since you ripped my heart
Straight out of my chest

Yet you're walking the streets
With her on your arm -
Your new marvelous quest

While I do not consider
Myself to be picturesque,
Lovely, or striking

I am daintier
And not impressed
With your exquisite timing

She holds a pulse,
That is the truth
A sad one, at that

But she's merely an impulse
A spur of your youth
Which you will soon regret

these days i am
in-between

not a student
yet not a teacher
waiting on a call
an interview
anything

not a lover
yet not a stranger
searching for a friend
a hand to hold
anything

not a tenant
yet not homeless
looking for a flat
a home
anything

all i am
is lukewarm

Scratchy syllables
And raspy tones

4am
Dial tones

Two sets of sheets
Hushed voices

Lovers repeat
Promised noises

States and state lines
Limit touch

Cedars and pines
Fields and such

Loving is smooth
When the world's asleep

Sweet vermouth
A luscious treat

A sliced moon
And miles between

Asters in June
Unforeseen

I have covered the mirror
With notes and quotes

Painted the white walls
With acrylic and oils

Washed my spotless car
Repeatedly

Aired my apartment
Completely

I have written words
On wingspans

Carved phrases
Into his hands

Burned candles
Down to nothing

And left lights on
To hear the buzzing

I eyed my reflection
As I swore:

"I do not love him
Anymore"

I let them come and go
Taking what they need
I give them what they like
Men are too easy to please

Small talk flows
Before we cut to the chase
Ripping up grass
And keeping the same pace

He is a friend
And a lover for an hour
Sharing something so sweet
But we turn it sour

I let him come and go
To ease the pain
Making pleasure my companion
To keep me sane

We agree it is a one-time thing
And promise controlled hands
But we will be tempted again
While striving to withstand

When I'm crawling my way
Out of dreaming about you
My subconscious is sure of your presence
Next to me - kissing me awake

But it is just the sun
Pecking my skin
I admire the sun's call for my waking
But the sun's kiss feels nothing like yours

She tells you there is a hurricane inside my head
And how my pupil is not the eye of the storm

Agitation creeps underneath the layers of my skin
She is sure that I am trouble (or troubled)

Obviously, I am a thief in the night
I am stealing you away, after all

And she explains to your sister that I am the wolf in sheepskin
Just waiting to devour

I tell her I don’t understand what it is I did wrong
She tells me to exam myself once more and recalculate all my flaws

Choking on words
Attempting to shove them down

Reliving the vision of you
Brings mixed emotions

We do not speak
For reasons continually multiplying

Yet I wish to tell you
Hurts unspoken

I dream of stopping you
In your tracks

Merely to tell you
Secrets left unsaid

"Your teammate's hands
Skipped consent

I cannot forget
The look in his eyes

His touch left my skin
Purple in places

He made me feel
Like I was the cause."

But dreams are
Only hazy

They're wishes meant
For the mind only

We do not speak
And I will not tell you

You will never know
Of bruises on thighs

I'm not all that different
From doctors and surgeons

I search for sharp eggshells
In brownie batter

It's a grueling task
Yet, one I can't miss

Without my extraction
My dessert is displeasing

My grandfather's surgeons
Are similar to me

They search for the blockage -
A distasteful one at that

Hands search
And scavenge

They use medical instruments
I have utensils of my own

Both certain that sharp eggshells
Harm the entirety

There are times I
Come up short

The pesky shards
Are difficult to find

And I am afraid
Of the doctor's similarity to me

I pray they find the eggshells
Inside my grandfather's arteries

doors: heavy
one small window
searching for
a frantic heart

mixed emotions
drive: uneasy
commotion
a tender friend

girl, sedated
small arms bandaged
aid: belated
a worried self

I had never met a man
Who kissed my insecurities,
Tended my distorted perceptions,
And traced lips across my scarred skin.

I was worthy to be lavished upon.
In your eyes, I was more than a trophy.
My figure was temptful but valued;
Every penny was well-spent.

You brought back what should have been.
My previously unmet expectations
Brought my hopes down;
Your gentleness built them back up again.

We may not have worked out...
But your pursuit taught me a lesson:
I am lovely and fine with being "incomplete"
Three adventurous months with you... were enough for me.

There's no such thing
As no strings attached
Although your emotions are absent

There's no such thing
As no strings attached
Even though I say I'm fine with these decisions

A baseball glove is your future
But for now I will suture
My body back together

Tying it together with the strings
That should never be attached
To sneaking around

You probably call it *******
While your buddies
Pat you on the back

I thought *** was supposed to be
More than just you and me
Keeping our voices down

How
Do you let me through your window
Just to tell me to get dressed and go?

We were fooling around
But it's different now
That you're playing with my heart

she encourages me to draw the curtains
i'm on her couch for an hour or so
explaining to me that, "all men aren't serpents."
even if he's slithered in my bed... around my throat

reminds me, "isolation is a birdcage
he'll never know you if you're ruffled and shy"
yet, i cannot find the courage to engage
my craving for adventure is... out of supply

she listens to stubborn reasoning and woe
allows me to sit in unanswered silence
she's heartening every wednesday even though
my distaste for growth is shown through defiance

There's an ocean
Sloshing around
Inside my head

With each step
I feel the waves
Lap my skull

My mind is
Warped like
A heavy bucket

Brunette waves
Used as
A handle

His hands
Grab handfuls
Yanking my hair

Steers me clear
Of sweet
Relief

Takes me
And my ocean
Anywhere

Has me
Tag along
Just in case

If salty rivers
Ever succeed
In their escape

He let's them flow
Indifferent of
My waterways

Your first real love. The love who made life make sense. The love who sat next to you in silence just to be with you. The love who kissed your knuckles and your forehead. The love who carried you to bed when you fell asleep during your favorite movie. The love who was good until they weren't.

You shouldn't miss your first real love. After all, it ended so poorly. Either they cheated on you, or the two of you went your separate ways. Maybe one chose a career over you. Maybe they had no good reason to end things, but did anyway.

Yet, you're reading this; and you may still miss them. The late night phone calls. The good morning kisses. When they showed up with your favorite drink just because. You miss their laugh and the way their nose crinkled when they did. You miss the touch of their skin. You miss your first real love.

And it's hard. They might be on the opposite side of the world or a mile away. They might live in the same town or a few states away. You may see them daily on your way to class or to the copier. You may see them every few months and wish that you hadn't. You may only see them while you're cyberstalking them. But it's difficult, nonetheless.

Maybe it's even more difficult because they're so close. You wonder what it would be like to show up unannounced. Would they let you in? Would they tell you they were sorry? Would they say they missed you too? Would they hold you like they used to? Would they let you fall asleep on the couch? Would they be there when you woke? Or would they shut the door in your face?

Or because they're so far away... you feel like it really is over. You wonder how they live now. Are they still seeing their new lover? Are they sleeping around? Is that job working out for them? Is their life moving on smoothly without you?

So many questions. You over-think and over-analyze until you're turning in circles. You want answers to questions you may never get answers to. Maybe that fact makes you miss your first real love even more.

I'm gonna tell you that it's okay to miss them. It's okay to sleep with their shirt "one last time". It's okay to cry over them to that stupid early 2000's song on your way home from work. It's okay to see their car and wonder if it's them.

You'll have your good days. You'll even have your good weeks. You'll realize that many nights have passed without wishing they were sleeping beside you. You'll find yourself learning how to live life without them once more. Getting coffee for one - not two - will be second nature... and that's not a bad thing.

And when you believe that you've taken two steps forward and three steps back, you'll still pull through. One minuscule thing will remind you of them, and you may have a rough rest of your day, but you will make it.

After all, they were your first real love. It would be a shame for part of you to not miss them. They meant something to you. And you know what? You meant something to them.

You may end up missing your first real love for the rest of your life. You may go to your grave with their name on your lips... but I don't truly believe that.

You will grow. You will move past them. Life will run its course. One day, you'll learn to let them go. You'll learn to forgive them. You'll even learn to forgive yourself.

You'll miss them. And that's okay. It's okay to read this and continue to miss them. Just know that they're the one that should be missing you. After all, you were most likely their first real love.

I wake to his whistling
On the couch in the den
His mug full of black coffee
Now empty, he'll get up to fill it again

My grandfather is constant
He has never walked out on me
He has taught me that nonsense
Lies within the person who flees

I have watched him slow with age
His bones have grown weak and frail
I know that he sheds tears offstage
When he looks back on the trials of his tale

My grandfather is water
He flows and ebbs, traveling from place to place
But he has had three otters
To keep him company... just in case

He is a constant imperfect man
Who loves motorcycles and sweets
He's too laid-back to have a plan
But shows up early when we meet

I lie awake and I know he does the same
Staring at the ceiling is one thing we share in common
Sleep has always been like a waiting game
He wishes he could close his eyes more often

My grandfather is constant water
He is changeless and tranquil
I am certain that his love has made me stronger
Even when it appears to be casual

My car rumbled
Outside your house
Last night

Searching for
The bedroom light
Through your curtain

Knowing your car
Was cold behind
The garage door

Unsure of why
I decided
To drop by

Perhaps I believed
You would feel me
Looking in

Maybe I thought
You were merely a dream
Nonexistent

Wondering if we
Really continued
To live separate lives

I was back
In Bloomington
Last night

Loudly playing
Your favorite
Rock rhyme

Swore I could smell
Your e-cig
From the driver's side

Maybe I stopped by
Bloomington
To beckon you

Thinking I was
A siren
Able to lure you

Perhaps I accomplished
Whatever I
Set out to

Sang my
Sweet song
Led you to doom

But I don't think my call
Seeped through
Your bedroom walls

Either I
Was too quiet
Or you were
Preoccupied

Come a little closer and you will soon see
Run your fingers along the cracked parts of me

The cracks etch my thighs, hips, and *******
Each crevice: white, purple, and ruby red

What once was flat and smooth has changed
Bulges and ripples: new landscape

Voices continue to point my flaws out to me
The mirror screams failure; I choose recovery

Previously, these porcelain walls were kept neat
Prim and polished on the inside – pink squeaky clean

Now, this doll is filled with laughter and cheesecake
But the cracks in my mask are all on display

He tells me he loves every part of me
And stretched skin is a part of my story

But I cannot tell if I’m breaking my “perfect” shell
Or if I want to go back to my personal hell

red sheets
      knotted
the closet
      half full
rusting
      faucet
brunette
      lulled

the children
      spinning images
their father
      consumed
wife
      exhausted
homewrecker
      perfumed

dishes stacked
      high
lights flicker
      on
sheets hung
      dry
door
      unlocked

You cannot judge a piece of art
you do not delve within
each day

You cannot speak poorly of another writer's
sweat and tears
and consider yourself a creator

You cannot effectively write
unless you choose to read or record
each day

You cannot decide to tear my stanzas apart
but uphold your short phrases
and consider yourself a creator

His fingers run through my hair...
Just as yours did.
Palms large and soft; the wind dares
To graze my skin.

The wind is a man; I wish he were you.

His breath on the nape of my neck...
Kissing furthermore.
Giving my nose a swift peck...
Rattling the door.

The wind is a man; I wish he were you.

Forming tears without trying...
Cold blow to the face.
He kisses before biting.
Nips in the same place.

The wind is a man; I wish he were you.

Reminds me of what once was:
Summer days... cold nights.
Whispers of our eros love...
Blown out candlelight.

The wind is a man; I wish he were you.

Pass time with me...
And you will live forever.

I will memorize
The sound of your voice.

Only to compose
A piece about your vocal chords.

Stick by me...
And I will write about you.

Detail-laced words;
The specifics of your smile.

I will dedicate time
To mull over your dimples.

Spend all night
Visualizing the green of your eyes.

Take all day
Writing about the spaces between your fingers.

I am the writer...
You have been collected on paper.

You, artwork,
Now you are immortal.

The popcorn ceiling
flakes off
onto the comforter.
I turn over
and pull his
heavy arms
around my neck.
He is dead to me,
but his grip
is alive and well.
Air passes though
purple lips.
Fingers are stiff
yet take the time
to graze my back.
Smile: crooked
before breaking
the skin.
You're dead to me.
Or are you?