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Cry me a river
of joy,
she said

I knew she meant it,
by the silence
by the memory of her laughter,
how she poked fun
how she rubbed me down with giggles of mirth,
bellies gyrating with angst
and rambunctious
passion

I knew it

It was not the idea
of her
that scared me,
not anymore
would I think of women
that way

What
it was
that scared me
was how I knew we'd say goodbye
and I'd be okay
for once
okay
and happy she said goodbye...

Happy we didn't shovel moats & forge keeps,
establish plans of attack & surrender
belabor, humming & hawing, over broken treaties,
over civilian casualties
the banishment of civil liberties
and the proverbial
dictatorships of,
"I'm not the problem, so, it MUST be you."

Reply with,
"Yes, it is me."
I knew it,
"I'm sorry!"
Jinx!
Not this time.

This time,
she said goodbye.
And so did I. At least, inside.
And she meant it,
and it was honest.
And so was I. A small comfort.
First of many...

Her goodbye was a kiss that could rival
daydreams
of memories that are
more remixed than the splotches of oil
on a painter's palette,
and,
more dibbled and dabbled, than ten playlists of slow jams,
in my arsenal of hopeless stratagems,
bearing the desperate subtext of,
'park your rear end
where I can't begin to ask honestly.'

Because,
honestly,
if this weren't goodbye,
I could only trade this goodbye,
for ten thousand "Hello's"
whose end and beginning are lost to the tides of status quo,
of forget me nots
and anniversaries,
and picture frames
of days where we forgot what 'goodbye' meant,
because we learned to speak the truth...

And isn't it the truth,
that goodbye,
was so much sweeter than,
I can't stand,
how much we fought for a t-shirt
that eponymously said,
"I cried over spilt milk, and all I got was this t-shirt."
because none of us know
the name of the game,
but we know we hate playing it
Sometimes, it's not meant to be.
And that's so perfect :)

Enjoy! :D
neth jones Feb 22
. clean giddy winter day
  my five year old ;
“The moon’s following me !”
  ally with the world surround
  when did i unlearn this bond ?
tanka style version

notes :

'the moon's following me'
my five year olds delight
a clear winter day
an only child  stalked by the moon
the importance he feels
Anais Vionet Feb 9
We’re (my roommates and I) at a specific time of youth - a time I’ll call “close.” We aren’t fully adults but we’re close, we’re not completely out and independent, but we’re close. And once again, we’ve got choices to make.

I read this paragraph to the room.
Lisa gasped and exclaimed “Not choices?!”
“More choices?” Anna groaned.
“I’ll have a bacon-cheeseburger with large-fries,” Sophy said, adding, “and a blueberry-triple-malt shake.”
“Freedom is choices,” Leong, our favorite communist, ungrammatically observed.

We’re in the second half of our junior year - which is still hard to believe. We’ll be seniors soon, and seniors have one foot out the door - they’re ‘over the ****’ academically - nothing will be thrown at them that they can’t casually handle, so they sleep-in or trek off to job interviews half the time or in my case, go med-school hunting.

I’ve written about our lives - the stresses, healthy doses of narrative-suffused teen drama, the ascetic beauties and the enchantments of freedom - trying to capture a few real-life moments at irregular intervals, in small ellipses, to tack them, like butterflies on cork.

What’s been hard to capture are the subtler shifts in taste and mood as we’ve aged. I’ve had to purposefully slow down, doppler shift from frantic student to observant writer, to even try and grasp the constantly evolving, small variations. Like Anna’s cainogenetic expressiveness, Leong's imponderable politics, Sophy’s evolving, coquettish bar-side poses and the growing assertiveness of Lisa’s gaze.

As we mentally prepare for our real lives, there are diffuse metamorphic changes afoot. What will we leave behind and what will we keep in order to “grow up?” I don’t mean changes in haircuts, clothes and make-up - although I’m sure I’ll MCU-those-out - I mean the psychological changes.

Throughout our college careers, the objects we’ve surrounded ourselves with, the settings we’ve chosen to inhabit, the faces we’ve shown the world, and even our intimate notions of ourselves have changed.

And It’s still only junior year, I can’t wait to see what comes next.
slang…
*cainogenetic: adaptations in development that aren’t found in evolutionary ancestors
MCU-out = the nauseating oversaturation of something, like the Marvel-movie-verse.

Adults don’t always grasp (remember?) the thousands of small but concrete choices governing the life of, say, a middle-school adolescent. The zig-zags that appear puzzling or random from afar, stem from questions like, ‘What does my belt say about my sexuality or my relationship to oppressed people in poverty?”
Jellyfish Nov 2023
I step in the shower
It feels like it's been hours
Since I turned the faucet on
but the transition makes me pause

I push the curtain to either side,
Making sure it lines the walls,
Spills are something I avoid
Then I can face the waterfall

It surrounds my every fiber
I start to feel like it's a part of me
I connect with my body,
Closing my eyes and remembering

But a loud noise startles me
I hate the anger I feel,
Every sound, crash, clang that's made
It rattles through me

And suddenly I have to face reality,
Reminding myself of who I am
I'm no longer seven or twelve,
I'm an adult in a safe house

The water covers me as I realize I sat down
Sometimes it's easier to find comfort on the ground
I get up and am covered in bubbles
It's nice to zone out and forget my troubles
The water holds me
Louise Sep 2023
They are both orange or gingers, as in my dreams
both crazy and funny, like you and me
and in our faces, in the morning, they won't scream.

In the apartment we'll never split rent together,
between the rooms we'll never kiss in
the kitchen we'll never cook in, not for each other.

The litter boxes we won't take turns to clean
the food bowls we won't refill, like you and I never did
wiping mirrors until they glisten and gleam
and looking back now, it's a relief indeed

The bills we won't compute, pay and solve,
the fights that we'll never have.
I find comfort in our inexistent marital issues
and the divorce that we'll never have to encounter.
There's joy and pain in every relationship that ends. Grief and relief for every connection that's not meant to be.
Grace James Aug 2023
I see strangers on the Internet
talk about healing their inner child.
It made me go inward.
Think
and think
and think.

About little me.
Three, five, seven years old.
What she wore
what she ate
what she watched on TV.

How she danced,
twirled on and on
without a care in the world.

And as I saw her in my mind's eye
and felt her in my soul,
my heart was filled with a Great and Terrible Sadness.

Oh, how I've failed her!
I've abandoned her laugh
her warmth
her light.

I traded her valiance for fear,
her voice for silence.
Her smile and bright green eyes
for a dull film over too-pale features.

Oh, my poor, sweet child.
I am endlessly sorry.
I have failed you.
Failed you.
Failed you.

Those strangers on the Internet
want to heal their inner child.

But now
I wonder...
Can my inner child heal me?
George Anthony Aug 2023
real love is boring
in the best way.

real love is excitement
to do all the boring,
adulthood stuff with you.

real love is frustration
that will not outweigh our happiness.

real love is coffee
coffee mate, 1 sugar, ready
as soon as the sun meets our eyes.

real love is family
with four fuzz butts at our sides.

real love is happiness
in all the small, day to day things
we do together day by day.

real love is lust
just from stroking your side.

real love is morning breath kisses;
i scrunch my nose
then come back for more.

real love is choosing you
every single time, no matter who asks.

real love is fighting
and just wanting to stop,
cuddle regardless of who was right.

real love is working together,
balancing duty and quality time.

real love is security
and feeling safe with you
no matter where we are.

real love is us.
in any time or universe, i want us to be us.
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