i wish somebody wanted to hold my hand
i tell a group of friends
as we sit in a circle at a downtown coffee shop
this is my way of saying
that i don't think anyone has ever been in love with me
i have a habit of attracting people
who only hold my hand
when they want to hold me down
this is my way of telling them
that a boy i met at a party
held my hand only long enough to lead me upstairs
my breath scented with wine coolers,
his hand wrapped around mine
as he lowered me on his bed
he only held my hand to hold my wrists
while i struggled
so i didn't stop struggling
this is my way of saying
i feel like picture you hide in your drawers
a foggy memory
this is my way of saying
i wish someone wanted to hold my hand
Mar 15, 2019
Mar 15, 2019 at 9:36 AM UTC
we sit on my bed,
soft blankets wrapped around our legs,
fingers intertwined
your hands are soft,
you use a lotion
that smells like sugar cookies and vanilla
your voice is quiet and it reminds me of constellations and candlelight
and you’re telling me about sharing a milkshake
with a boy
i listen
trying to show my interest
as you tell me about curly hair and spearmint scented kisses
you tilt your head back
and i can’t help but think about kissing your neck
i blush,
trying not to think about it
i love you so much
i’m always worried someone will notice
i spend my days wishing
my hair was curly in a way that appeals to you
hoping that if i chew enough spearmint gum,
then maybe you’ll want to kiss me
but you,
you are peonies
and fireworks dotting across dark skies
and the changing colors of fall.
you are a sunset
and i am simply a girl
who fell in love with looking at one
Mar 15, 2019
Mar 15, 2019 at 8:48 AM UTC
the first time that i was kissed
we stood on a bridge
fingers locked
you smelled like bubblegum
and your freckles looked like stars
your hands pressed into my waist
but i can’t remember your hands
without remembering
waking up,
hands tied to the headboard of your bed,
silk ribbons pressing into my wrist
a sloppy mouth on my neck
when i remember my first kiss
all i remember is
being desperate to tell you
no
no
no
your voice as you whispered
you’ll do this if you love me
i remember
staring at the lanterns on your ceiling
hoping it will be over soon
when i think of my first kiss
all i can think of is hands
but hands that don’t stay
at my waist
Feb 14, 2019
Feb 14, 2019 at 1:22 PM UTC
i still remember the first time
that someone thought my body
was their property
my first girlfriend pressed her hand into my throat,
tightening her fingers
like she wanted to leave her prints there
but all that was left were bruises
that i had to explain away to my mother
a boy i just met grips my hair
he shoves me to the ground
i can still feel the branches pressing into my knees
his calloused fingers wiping away my tears
as he tells me to be a good girl
i want to be a good girl
i’m scared to not be a good girl
but i know i’m not
because good girl doesn’t shove her fingers down the back of her throat
digging like if she can go deep enough
she might find hidden treasure
good girl doesn’t feel hands forcing their way up her shirt
and think “he’s not going to stop
so i might as well let him”
good girl doesn’t feel ***** all the time
good girl doesn’t have fingerprints engraved on her skin
like tattoos
good girl doesn’t feel phantom hands
pushing their way up her skirt
if she sits a certain way
a good girl wouldn’t let that happen to her
a good girl doesn’t let her body
get rented out like a hotel room
a good girl is no one’s property
Feb 7, 2019
Feb 7, 2019 at 8:02 AM UTC
early morning sunlight streams through my windows
the only things that i can hear is my heartbeat
and her breathing
she always lies next to me and her hair always drifts onto my pillow
but i don’t mind
seconds pass and every second that ticks by reminds me
that i let another day pass by
without telling her
she is starlight skies and cold morning walks
she is my favorite book and i want to run my fingers down her spine
she is honey and i am drowning in it
she is everything
and i can never tell her
so we will always be nothing
Feb 6, 2019
Feb 6, 2019 at 8:12 AM UTC
as a child,
my mother would read me fairytales
and all i ever wanted
was to be a princess
a princess who’s voice made flowers bloom in barren land,
who had honey combs in her words
and roses blooming in her bloodstream
a princess
who’s prince would always come to save her
but as i grew older i realized
that i was a normal girl
and normal girls only become princesses in fairytales
but still i waited in my tower,
for years and years,
waiting for my prince to come save me,
for someone to slip a glass slipper on my foot
or kiss me awake from my 100-year sleep
and i thought my prince had found me,
had come to save me
with hidden kisses and starlight dances
but it wasn't long before he realized
that i wasn't the princess he had dreamed of
and he wanted to see if my flowers were beautiful enough for his garden
so he cut open my wrists,
exposed the roses in my blood
to evil queens and the monsters in the forest
and ever since
my honeycombs are cracked and empty
my flowers are dead
and i know prince charming is never coming to save me
because princes only save princesses
and i am not a princess
Feb 6, 2019
Feb 6, 2019 at 8:10 AM UTC