i say that i am
"so done with estrogen"
you might not understand

im tired of the stretch marks
on these sacred double D's
tired of all the boys
who don't take me seriously
im tired of the looks
when i wear a shirt that's deemed too low
im tired of the acne
my young teenage skin shows
im tired that i hate you
and that we can't be close
because you are my mother
it should not be so.
im sorry that i was up at two am
and cried because i have no friends
blame it on my "***"
or whatever you would like
im sorry that it happened, just another part of teenage life

im tired of not being able to walk home by myself
because i'm "fragile," and it's dangerous
im tired that i can't be tall
because i have no *****
and being ashamed of my physical traits
when i really have no reason
im tired of putting on makeup
whenever i go out
using dyed red chemicals
to perfect my pout
im tired of being paid less
than my male counterpart
and being stopped by a glass ceiling
when i try to work
im sorry that im here
i know that i should be at home
caring for some children, or talking on the phone
i just had to tell you
that there's meaning behind my words
when i say that im "so done with estrogen"
im really saying much more

its been
six days
since ive seen you
and eight days
since you
have tried to see me
but
24 days
since we've been alone
and
38 days
since i last held you close

i once predicted
when we were happy and together
that if i lost you
it would not shock me immediately
but rather
hit me piece by piece
and that losing you
would slowly **** me
as a lack of happiness in my life
and that's what happened

it's winter break
and i've been laying in bed for the past five days
it's like i need your touch
to sustain me
and i need your words
to get myself out of bed
winter break
where we promised we'd spend
every day together
and maybe i would have gotten snowed in
at your house
(in a worst case situation, of course)
but instead
i'm laying bed
5.9 miles away
from where i want to be
and you're spending every day
with your best friend
and she's beautiful
just like you
while i'm laying here
regretting my decision
of calling it quits
far too early
because i need you

we are the generation of young poets
our teenage minds all intertwined
and reaching out in dark ink on light paper
behind a name i don't call mine

we are the generation of young poets
who paint with knives and blades
and write our tears away

we are the generation of young poets
scared behind a screen
typing "i dont know what's happening to me"

we are the generation of young poets
unlike one ever before
we are the generation of young poets
and hopefully, we'll make it
and we'll be back for more

he held my hand tonight
we were ice skating
and he was about to fall
he held my hand
but it wasn't the same

it wasn't at all like the rush
i get
when holding hands with you
his fingers weren't warm
nor did they make me feel warm
they didn't interlock mine
like yours do
he didn't use them
to fix his hair
far too often
like i know you would have
they weren't callused
from pressing on frets
making beautiful music
with his guitar
and he was lacking a scar near the bone of his right wrist
his hands were neither sturdy nor familiar
and his voice did not soothe

he's not you

and that's
not okay
to me

you said goodbye
effortlessly
you explained
with even breaths
and walked
with even steps
out of my door
and out of my life
i shakily said
"goodbye"
and i smiled
and pretended
that i
would be okay
but it's been five months
and it's like the sun
ceased to attend morning
or the ocean
refused to make waves
and the earth
forgot
how to roll into big beautiful hills
and mountains
and i
forgot
how to wake up and smile
or walk home by myself
i learned
to spend my weekends alone
and put my head down when i saw you
with them
and her
i was no longer them
or her
with you
no longer a tree in the words
but a ****
among pavement
and that was life
without you

i looked at you
and i saw the world falling apart in your eyes
i just hope you didnt cry
know that losing me is not as traumatic
as when the boy across the street made you do things when you were nine
or when your grandpa died
because i know you've only cried twice
please know
i'm not important enough to cry over
for you are far better than this

and i hope your palms don't sweat when you think of me
and your breath didn't catch when you saw my bracelet on your kitchen counter
i'll forever remember how you always touched your fingers when you were talking
and the way you you rubbed your face when you were tired
and don't think i'll forget the little scar on your right wrist
or your crooked dimples whenever you finally smiled

know that we were not meant to be
in this place, and in this time
and know that
i hope you didn't cry

and ill try not to read your letters
and forget the time i heard you say
"my life has been better since i met her"
ill pretend you're okay
pretend im glad that i had it my way
act like i don't miss you at all


august, you drowned while others swam
found yourself alone in your room
again and again