all I want is for
Taystee to be happy and
never see Vee again

i'm graduating.
tomorrow
twenty hours
who let this happen
let me go back to crayons and finger weaving
or at least to factoring
i am no adult
the world is no more ready for me than i am for her.

i've never been kissed.
no one has ever pushed a few stray hairs out of my face,
lightly touched my chin,
and pressed their velvet lips against mine.
i've never been caressed.
no one wants to slowly drag their fingers up my thigh
or hold my hand until our palms are both sweaty.
i've never been held.
no one has ever put their body against mine
so i could feel the rise and fall of their chest
synchronized perfectly with mine.
i've never been loved.
no one has ever written me a poem
so sappy, i couldn't decide whether to melt or laugh.
no one ever will.

I
could
shower
myself
in
stardust
and
I
still
wouldn't
shine
as
bright
as
her*


                              B.S.

"there are two sides to every story" my mother says when I suggest that my brother could be a feminist.
I'm tired of the "her outfit" side of the story.
I'm tired of the "make me a sandwich" side of the story.
I'm tired of the "friendzoned again" side of the story.
I'm tired of the "woman gets acid thrown on her for rejecting advances" side of the story.
I'm tired of any side of the story that marginalizes me for my gender.

I don't know what to say anymore
Its like no matter what I want it never happens

Your voice
Your bangs
the way You don't take misogynist **** from anyone
Your passion for Bukowski
the way You make me feel like i'm not worthless
that signature scent that i can't quite decipher
Your hugs
i love when You pull me against your chest and i can breathe in and for a few moments, there is only You in my entire world
Your devotion to and unapologetic love for One Direction
how opinionated You are
i love your weird, even twisted sense of humor
how i can tell You anything