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louella Jun 2023
in the garden,
there lies my bed
cloaked in vines,
dressed in mossy sheets.
the forest floor soft beneath callused heels.
ever present silence like mist in the air.
as i try to lay on the mattress,
vines are suffocating,
twisting around my neck
and i gasp for more air, more air, more air.
feelings of suffocation.

6/24/23
louella Dec 2022
his eyes as bright blue as the ocean that envelops him.
the life in his nonexistent smile.
his eyes like beacons of hope.  
but he’s crying in pillows that engulf his sorrow
he’s begging the master to give him tomorrow
to lift the hammer off his chest
to halt the train until the morning hour
to untie the cuffs around his wrists tied to the tracks.
he’s hiding the fits, the consuming illnesses
the signs of weakness that creep into his concreteness.
his eyes as bright blue as the ocean that devours him.
i just love writing. i keep getting inspo, but then it fades. so this is an old poem i wrote in school lol.
10/5/22
louella Apr 29
you shrink yourself down to someone else
create an image that might only work for a couple months
i hope you and him hate each other after all this
i hope you split his heart in half
i hope his knuckles get soft and his eyeballs rot
i hope you freak out when he’s beside you
i hope i echo like a freight train
in your brain
i hope the lies that you told attempt to sing you lullabies on your sleepless nights, but only conjure up nightmares
i hope you grip them hard in your palms and make him sob.
i hope your remembrance of me strikes you guilty,
i hope the circumstances make you wither,
but then i hope you don’t have to live with yourself any longer
and i hope you change
and stop worshipping yourself.
i hope this charade ends with you,
ashamed and sunken,
realizing that your ego will always crack
leaving only you and its remnants.
i hope you want it all back
but as you can see,
it is dead and buried.
i hope your body abandons your mind
 and finds a new host.
i hope you never go back to your scheming,
i hope you change
and never revert back to who you were.


i apologize; i am only a little spiteful.
***** liars. ***** sucky friends.

4/28/25
louella Jan 2022
I walked down the path, watching my steps intently, trying not to fall. My face formed a light smile that annunciated my cheekbones. I was happy now; this was the first time I was in the longest time. I never knew why I was sad either, all my emotions always seem to blend together. I pushed everything aside for the minutes I was walking, clearing my wandering mind.
And there he was ahead of me. Jeremiah.
Oh, what was I to do? He was in the way of the pathway, I couldn’t leave now. The wind stung my face with its worry. As if she was speaking to me, asking,“Are you alright?” patiently.
Oh, I was properly scared. No, not gut wrenchingly frightened, but the hair on my neck stood on its edge, ready for attack.
As I was about to prance away, our eyes met. His were green, brown- hazel. Beautiful. I didn’t dare breathe one word.
He walked up to me, grabbing my hand slowly. I reached out and we touched. The cherry blossoms fell onto the ground all around us.
My mouth didn’t want to speak, but I did. My brain was telling me to say how much I adored him. How much I loved him, but oh no, I could never.
“What’s the matter?” Jeremiah whispered serenely.
“Nothing.” I gently replied, but my mind blew up with many sparks.
“I missed you. You know that?” He asked sweetly, his breath smelled like candy that I wanted to put in my mouth and engulf.
“I missed you too,” I said, beaming.
We hadn’t seen each other in a whole month. I missed him the entire time, with my full heart. Even though he was gone for so long at war, I didn’t want to see him anymore. Those forbidden words clung to the back of my tongue, ready to protrude out of my lips at any given moment. But I kept silent. Even though it pained me deeply.
“Everything seems off…like I missed a lot.” He gave a sentimental expression to me and looked straight up at the glowing sun.
“You never miss too much. You’re always gone when there’s a problem, always gone when I’m grieving.” I was petrified that those words came out of my foolish lips. I told them to stop being so loose.
I could tell that he felt sympathetic for me, while also terrified of my honest remarks.
“No, that’s not what I meant-“ the words didn’t feel right. Not at all.
Jeremiah didn’t say anything else. Neither did I.
But he grabbed my hand and we started waltzing. The sun was beginning to set in the bleak horizon. The sun lit up both of our indignant faces, something we had in common.
While he waltzed calmly, he whistled. The songs he was whistling sounded so familiar. So familiar.
War chants. That’s what the whistle sounds were. They tore me towards his skin. I saw landscapes from Greece, Italy, and Spain painted on his skin. Dreams so faint, I could barely read them. Tattoos of what our lives could have been. If he never got involved in war.

As our dance ended, he pulled me in so close I could almost taste his disappointment.
His eyes told me stories from his time at war, but that wasn’t what he was trying to tell me.
“You shouldn’t resent me for going to war,” he said. “You know before…before my life….I had another one. And before that, you weren’t mine, I was you.”
“What?” I asked doubtfully.
“I was you before. I criticized you for going to save your country. I denounced your accomplishments complacently. I said you were worth nothing. And the next day, I found you on the floor of the dining room. Burning alive. I ran to your side but..” he struggled forming these words, “I was engulfed into the flame. Both of us went down to the evil storm of jealousy. Both of us died in vain. Useless. So God sent us back for another round, when we would swap roles, I would go to war and provide, and you would, you know, wait around. But look, we’re right back where we started.” He finished this statement firmly, leaving out no small detail.
“Oh, Jeremiah! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean anything. I promise. Oh, I missed you at war! I missed you dearly! I will never say anything else about you leaving! Never!” Yelling at the top of my lungs felt all good and well.
And we gripped each other’s bodies so tight, I bet an earthquake happened.
“Oh, Jeremiah! Maybe you were me before!” I shouted into the pitch black darkness.
Jeremiah whispered quietly under his breath. “Maybe.”
Soulmates who?
1/4/22
louella Jul 2022
a familiar chirp of a machine
a fever dream lodged into my lungs
buried underneath surface tension
enough to swallow a bus

a familiar whine of a machine
hollering like a tea kettle
ready to be placed onto the burner
so so loyal, ain’t it?

a familiar wail echoing in every room
clogging the circuit systems of the opinionated
brainwashing the center of gravity
coursing in these veins of mine

if you only call me a monster, the only trait you’re gonna get out of me is monster
and if you only call me a monster, then monster i will be
i’m so proud of myself for this one ahhhhh

7/16/22
louella Apr 2023
nightgown histeria
soft wavy hair falling as it sways in the wild wind
the peach trees
and she’s vibrant, isn’t she?
wander the halls of the empty house
counters tall, sink’s rusted
blueberries are in the ill-functioning refrigerator
and she inhales the summer wood scent
bark, smoke, and a little cherry.
lush green goes for miles
but she picks autumn leaves.
the shorts gripped to her thighs in the sizzling heat
she grapples with reality
on picnic table squares
light brown baskets bought and borrowed sit upon the blowing grass
creaky floorboards as she moves so briskly, but so sure.
of the holistic nature, she is meant to be perceived
in lavender fields, she hikes up her nightgown as the sun dips down
following the fireflies to her destination
quite possibly her demise
but she is golden like the sun rays
she is bluer than the ocean
but she is untamed, untrained and bold
the literal depiction of moonlight
she’s an attic of great antiquity
with hopes and dreams and reasons to fly in the wind
and it’s melancholy to watch yourself
crumble in a lonely house
left with your fearsome doubts
and it’s pouring rain
and she’s going insane
with her white nightgown now stained with rouge blood
around the heart that she once carved out of her body
to avoid her insanity
guess she climbed up the sycamore
to catch of glimpse of her brother
the sun was setting, fire burning, chimney smoke rising, hazy feelings
she adores this rope swing.
hello imagery. so, i’m not entirely sure. i guess this is about myself, but idk. rustic cabin in the meadow vibes.

4/27/23
louella Dec 2022
to be worth the world, you have to be beautiful

to maintain a kiss
to be something to miss
to be a wife with kids
you have to be beautiful

likewise, all of us feel we’re the detriment
in a society that loves to see us in bed
but we cry soggy tears on our sheets
and we don’t stop just because a model says we can be beautiful on the inside

to be worth the world, you have to be beautiful
buy a diamond studded dress
and go out in the reeds
and sing a sailor’s song to your bride to be

likewise, all of us feel the world’s back turned
our royal blue skin on her selfish lips  
giving us dead flowers and then wishing us the best
sends us away with so many backhanded compliments

to be worth the world, you have to be beautiful
raise your arms up to the afternoon sun
and remind everyone you were sent from God
and baby, i was too but there’s no use to prove it

likewise, i turn jewelry into stone
i make this critical conditioned heart into gold
i sew my bedsheets to represent some home
i believe the truth comes bleeding out of our eyeballs
our lungs just trying to catch up to this world

to be worth the world, you must be beautiful
we all call you by your given name
but you stomp on our fingers
you linger like a bad disease
it doesn’t pay to be kind and pretty

unlike you, i slave the day away
trying to feel the taste that gathers on your tongue
even when you do things wrong
i must try to feed the monster inside of my stomach
but it beats me to a pulp
every time i want something even as widespread as love

to be worth the world, you must be beautiful
you don’t need all the credentials
you don’t even have to have potential
as a valued person for anything other than your outer self

likewise, one day i might slip under the rope
being able to stop playing limbo
but what does it matter?
i’m still not a rose quartz in the middle of a stage show

to be worth the world, you must be beautiful
dance in alleyways
sing in outer space
be someone who can be replaced



be easily replaced
and then you’re beautiful
in this world
this goes to a folky musical thing that i made. inspo- gregory alan isakov

12/28/22
louella Oct 2022
you know,
it’s not easy
to be a woman
with a gunshot wound
and torn wings
on her back.
it’s not easy to
love a woman
who spins
in circles
and acts
like a maniac.
it’s not simple
to exist
in the poetic
tenebrosity
of this
era of living.
there are
hearts
shrouded with
darkness
pierced with
the tongs of their
garden rakes.
there are heads
on stakes
that never got
to stand
away from the
shadows,
shadows that were
casted upon them
for no reason
but that they
were labeled
evil, and so
they thought
they were,
they believed
they were,
they knew
they were.
it’s not easy
to be a person
with an honest
heartbeat on
the drug, littered
and pest invested
streets.
it’s easy,
(apparently),
to go about your
day without
even processing
the torture
some souls
go through just
for their eyes
to never be opened
for
their hearts to never
be warmed
with the
same blaze
you set in your home
to make it feel
all cozy and aesthetic
around the
holiday season.
it’s easy
to turn a blind
eye, to deny
the vile nature
of the bones that
outline souls of all
kinds of barbaric
creatures.
it’s easy to
look upon
it with a grimace,
with a dishonest
appeal to
strengthen the
crevices of
your heart that you
have to fulfill
to prove to some
entity of yourself
that you are a
kind person.
that you aren’t
selfish and
unsparing.
but is it working?
cause although
i see the flames
in your brownish
quite convincing eyeballs
i do see help,
i do spot the parts
of your sweet heart
in your retinas
undamaged by the
bright sun,
i do see the
endearment
lay claim on
your lips.
i see it.
i see it all.
it’s not easy
being a human
in a world where
opportunity only
comes to those
who only see
because they are
told to,
that only see what
they are told
that they can see,
and they hear
what they are
bound to hear
and so on.
it’s not easy
to crawl on
your fractured knees
and twisted ankles
in a pit of
venomous vipers.
it’s so easy
to see the crime,
the shame,
the atrocities,
and try
nothing to stop it.
it’s not easy
being a man
with gunshot wounds
in a combative
ill-conducted
circus,
navigating his
way through
the scattered
yelps of his
brothers
who got lost
in the shadows
and never returned.
you only hear
what you want
to hear.
the truth
aches more
than shoving a
rocket ship
up your runny
nose and
for valid reasons.
don’t shut out the voices of your own children, Society.
don’t separate the stories
of those
who will end
their lives being
ignited in the same
fire, in the exact
same
flame
that touched
the skin of
the silent pleading
children
who were never understood
of the people who
wrote a trillion words
and still weren’t heard
of the vagabonds
that were
casted out of
their villages and
wandered so far
that they lost
sight of who they
were.
some songs
are never
sung,
some instruments
broken and never
played,
millions of killers
never
prosecuted,
victims that
never got their
justice,
some babies never
born,
tens upon thousands
of lifetimes
forgotten.
some darknesses
are too violent.
some corruption
too manic.
it’s not easy
being a human
with bullet wounds
and
gashes
on our backs.
the shadows
of the universe
make us maniacs.
you reap
what you sow,
and you’re gonna
have to battle
millions of
justifiably
angry revolutionists…
so do you want to do this
the easy way,
or the hard way?
pick your machine guns that will always run out of bullets,

we will always have our voices.
wow.
go in peace.

10/7/22
louella Jan 2022
I remember the first time I was informed
About a metaphor

I shrugged and said
“I don’t need this in the real world.
Why are you teaching us this useless fluff?”

Yet when I saw your eyes blink during
The Christmas season
I wished I had never uttered those words
With little to no understanding
Of what words can heal
And what they can express

Metaphors are the key to knowing
People better than the rest
Whoever created the concept of metaphors was an undercover genius

1/11/22
louella Sep 2022
i lost my mind on a walkway of a public school
i suffocated my emotions at the bottom of a swimming pool
i don’t care to have a high school experience
i’m not popular and i’m definitely not “in with it”
measuring up isn’t worth half the time you invest in it
standing’s too overwhelming so i have to sit
i lost my mind by the time i got to fourth period
and i can’t believe i have to go and keep staying delirious

my old friends like me now, is this a new fever dream i’m not aware of?
my mind spins faster than a record that is new material
i lost my mind when i saw myself standing there
as still and as lifeless as the statue of david
and i just know that i can’t get it back this time
high schools *****. sorry i’m such a debby downer

9/2/22
louella Apr 2023
you were whisked away on a ship, bound for the treasure of the hidden world

i traveled to a desert
sweltering heat and cracking blisters
called your name as dry sand filled my esophagus
an oasis sprouted in the middle of the sandcastle civilization
running water, blue and hopeful
sprinting like a madman, i trekked towards my salvation
but when i came across its beckoning entrance
the mirage collapsed
the betrayal
my eyes had deceived me
in my consuming exhaustion, i had forgotten the illusions, smoke and mirrors the desert plays on you
and in being so crushed beyond belief
sandstorms came from under my feet
and, you know, the mirage became some
solidified reality
and
i
ache for it
with all my bones.

if only i were a crew member
aboard your ship to the galaxy
i was seconds away from boarding
five steps away
so close i could smell the saltwater as it caressed my cheek
waving goodbye to your face, decorated with sunlight
sun-kissed and golden.

the navigator of the seas
traveler with a sense of abandonment, on a sailboat gliding over waves,
glowing, evolving, flying
the sunset disappearing beyond the horizon,
where you chase the possibility of its various immensities
a rhythmic beauty, hung up in galleries, watching the waves lap against the shore
hands on her chin as she sits cross legged,
feeling the sand swirl around her  
she cups up the sand, as it vanishes slowly underneath her palms
sobbing into a pile of grief, so confined in a state of helplessness
she tumbles on the sand, silky hair falling to her sides under crescent moon design
and
she
aches for refuge
with all her bones.
for my old best friend. hopefully you haven’t forgot about me. read these words and understand that i want to be in your presence again. i miss you so dearly.

in the end i switch up the way i refer to her, as she and i have gotten less and less close over the years. the ‘she’ is used because i do now know her by the end, so instead of using ‘you,’ a more definitive term, i used ‘she’. do with that what you will

4/20/23
louella Jan 2022
i pray that you miss me so much that it causes physical pain
miss me for being shorter than you
please look for me in every single crowd
even when i walk downtown
i wish that your car would drive by
and you could call me pretty to your mom

i pray you miss my witty humor
or the way i didn’t put up with your crap
you better miss me so much that you start to hate me  
and then relapse and love me again

you have to miss me
i can’t feel empty and hollow in your memories
your amygdala better not regret me
better not forget me

i pray you will miss me laughing at you
or having an awkward silence cause we had so much tension
miss me and remember me in the ways you tease other girls
and play with their curls
miss me in the way you call other women by nicknames but they aren’t as cool as mine
miss me in the blanks of your imagination
did you ever dream of me while asleep?

i pray you won’t be clueless when my name is brought up in conversation
don’t forget you liked me in fourth grade
miss me in the way you can’t seem to erase my name cause i am haunting you
miss me in the sparks and flames and infatuation we had for each other
mutual discomfort

and i pray i will never be too far that when you are older you will forget i even existed
begging that you will think of my lips in your dreams and kiss them
but you know i never loved you in that way
i always wished you would go away
and cry and get cut like i was from you
but i would always wish your arms would somehow be next to mine
in the classroom

and lastly
all i wish is
you will remember me
when you watch “lifestyle” youtube videos
and think about short stories
Pls pls pls don’t forget about me
1/23/22
louella Aug 2022
waiting for months to pass
and then, i’m blue
and am labeled ungrateful.
waiting for months to turn to dust
in my rusty palms
to set straight my wonky emotions
to soothe my ferocious oceans.
counting days till my cage is opened
reciting rhymes until i come back to life.
waiting for months to disappear
become marks on the calendar
can’t wait for this year to be over.
waiting for these months to stop dragging
my laden feet
upon the creaky floorboards
resisting the torture.
waiting for the months to surrender
to the year’s higher rule
succumb to the power.
waiting for these months to blow by
to relocate out of my eye view
to package up and leave.

i can’t endure these months anymore
school *****

8/27/22
louella Jan 2
does it take all of me
all of me
me out of all people
to realize the nakedness? that i’m
bearing my soul for the heck
of it? for some “asylum”
built for the pleasure of others?
should i stand straight up,
laugh like i’m confident,
own the naked
parts of myself,
dance for the sake
of it, blow the horn?
live like i’m sick, live like
a parasite, going from
door to door, searching for cracks
and crevices to slip under,
sniff with the nose i forget
about all the time,
live like there’s more?
i get more inspired when i write on paper so that’s what i’m doing from now on.

feels like there’s always more than what is shown; maybe that’s the writer in me.

written: 12/30/24
published: 1/1/25
louella May 2022
i’m more human than you are
more human than your wickedly
accentuated cheekbones
the hair that falls in clumps above
your eyebrows
has more life in each strand
than you have in your entire body
your charcoal colored locks
that get lightened in the sunshine
gather more oxygen
than your own lungs can inhale

i’m more human than you are
when i laugh, i can’t breathe
when i’m anxious, i feel inches away
from death
it lingers in the pockets of the heat
it traps inside my airways
yet, i can breathe finer air than you

even though the haze upon the horizon
blocks traffic, makes people stop for a second
it is more alive than you’ll ever be
it winds and dips and turns
flowing through the atmosphere
creeping down the downtown streets
yet, it’s more awake than your resting body

and i understand this might be
a touchy
subject for you
but you need to let the air stay in your lungs
for more than a millisecond
let it sizzle inside your skin
feel your vessels and veins shrink and grow
let the blood flow reach your panicked head
let it expand inside your brain
and feel the cells chatter and goop
like water

you’re more human than you think
yourself to be
more raw and real and vigorous
you have a soul buried in your eyes
unlike the caterpillars chewing on
plants who only do it to keep their
species thriving
you’re a human who can extend their limbs
to reach the furthest lengths
your heart can think to be
bursting with life

i’m still more human than you are
this pen i was locked in
stuffed my self esteem
but i’m still breathing, aren’t i?
i can chase the wonky walking warbler
i can lie
between blades of grass
letting the earth sink into the linings
of my skin
even though an itch might bust through
i still find a way to absorb the
outside weather
the humidity and the direction the
wind is blowing, or choosing to travel

you’re more human than you think
can retreat from out of you
breathe, and maybe the cricket chirps
will make you resort back to
rolling down hilltops or
jumping off rugged cliffs
next time when you jump
internalize it
and maybe next time
imagine you’re a sparrow for a second
tasting the air, as the water embraces you
and calls your name
so,

                          answer back
i feel the imagery through this one. quick note: just be alive, don’t waste your time just surviving, why not thrive?

5/27/22
louella Mar 2022
the morning undresses the pain from yesterday
the dew drops remind the young child
the worst will always be struck by the sword
of the next morn
idk just thought about this before confession
3/30/22
louella May 8
and what if you’re the one that got away?
what if i wasted all those months hopelessly in denial,
swimming in my passivity?
those records play
my head spins
favorite friend;
you’re sick of me, i have a sneaking suspicion.
what if i’m still hanging onto your diction,
every party waiting for the way you crinkle your face when you laugh?
don’t be bitter, i didn’t understand the feelings when they were all that was floating around.
forgive my cluelessness.
i’ve been chasing immovable objects,
bodies that dance like fireflies,
bodies that fail to understand why everything has significance.
i cannot prove this to you;
i’ve run out of all my blood
and now the mosquitos have nothing to take from me.
just wrote this. thought of you. thought of him. thought about everything.

5/7/25
louella Jul 2022
the dance floor is crowded and the floor shines like it was freshly polished.
dresses fitted tightly and loosely, dresses purple, blue, yellow, unladylike.
hands moving like torpedoes, high kicks, deep dips, choreographed nonsense.
twirls, spinning in tent like shapes, hips gracefully swaying as the trumpets scream.
waltzing my way back into reality, into the arms of a familiar stranger.
clouded with the strawberry coated thoughts of a busted up balcony with my dance partner swinging me into a trance.
must have been love in the folds on your forehead, must have been love in the lights reflecting on the dance floor, must have been love in that gloomy air upstate, must have been love where i never saw it appear before, must have been love; nothing else has ever made me feel the same brilliant surge of energy as your touch on my back.
it must have been true love.
inspired by the school dance scene in west side story
7/12/22
louella Mar 2024
i’ve written about you
enough times to count on two hands now
but i do not want to be in love.
and i’ve said that one hundred times: you must be sick of hearing it;
i’m sick of me too.
i make myself sick
in every way
because i can’t write about you
in a poetic way
because the way we coexist isn’t poetic
in the slightest.
the way my eyes curl around the edges
is not poetic
in the slightest.
i am not enthralled with anyone.
i don’t carve initials into my spine
so i can be yours and you can be mine.
i am not obsessive.
i don’t know how to give myself away to others
to waltz on their stages
with ballet slippers.
i have no idea how to be in love with someone else.
i don’t need anyone else
to make me worthy in this world.
i don’t want anyone else
to make me worthy in this world.
i am worth the first breath of sunshine
without a man sitting on the park bench with me.
i am worth the months i have spent
aching for somebody else to make me whole again
but i am whole and complete and my own entity
and i love who i am when nobody is around
i love who i am when i am just by myself.
about how i don’t want a boyfriend nor need one. why do we shame girls if they haven’t had boyfriends? it’s so dumb

written yesterday
published: 3/31/24
louella Mar 2022
they locked lips as the evening sank further
and further
and further
the sun took one last peek
i stood in shock
and heard the band slow their music
slicing open my heart
pulling its strings
and i am still here
half dead
but wishing someone would also do that to me
or that the moonlight could help me breathe
choose the tongue over comfortability
I wanted to cry
But my throat was dry
I just don’t think I’ll ever be loved
It costs too much

Sorry for sad boy hour lol
3/30/22

edit: i cannot believe this embarrassing not even poem is the most viewed on my profile haha. and i’m 18 now and still never had a kiss yet
louella Nov 2024
my sweet girl, you have broken me
in two, in three,
in a thousand shattered pieces
blowing in the wild winds.
i would like to love the impossibility of you
shamelessly diving into the body of water
that is you.

my sweet girl,
there will be no one left out there to
doubt you.
you'll be understood by those you
respect the most,
loved completely by the world that tossed
and turned you
like a bobbing ship on the open seas.

my sweet girl,
you'll be singing up tempo songs,
dreaming broadway dreams.
you'll be happy and without liver disease.
the panic will fall off your bones,
leaking into the clear shallow streams.

why, sweet girl, must you waste such a
beautiful existence hating yourself?
why must you deny yourself the love
you truly deserve?
why worry your mother to death?
oh, sweet girl,
why must you contain yourself for those
you have never met?
oh, sweet girl, when i saw you crawl out
of your cocoon, i wept,
for the change that would only make a greater world,
was finally appearing.
to you. the one person who has truly always been there. do not hate yourself. you deserve love.

inspired while listening to george harrison songs.

written: 11/19/24 at 2 am
published: 11/22/24
louella May 2022
i want someone who’ll raise my chin above the crowds of people and hold my hand tighter when my heart rate increases and respect my boundaries and never be childish and isn’t a gym rat and knows that he is enough 

someone who doesn’t slurp soup or cereal and never asks me if i am ok because he’ll just know and has cracked open a book more than once in his life and writes poems to me in return even though i never asked him to and likes girls in mom jeans

i want someone who sings cheesy love songs to me outside of the shower and drinks sugary drinks and lifts me up just for fun and never gives people ***** looks and always looks ready for an opportunity and is certain and calming and can get my starbucks drink for me when i don’t wanna be seen in public

someone who’ll watch fun nature shows with me and never gets angry unless i am a **** to him and can fix a chimney and a car and a motorcycle and goes outside everyday and brings me along and couldn’t care less that i might’ve gained a little weight and will let me lay in bed all day when i just wanna be left alone

someone
or you know, i’ll take anyone
5/25/22
louella Apr 2022
i sang from the rafters
only echoes came back to me
lonely, locked and loaded
cries of desperation caused the vigorous vibrations
i sang until it took me over
my voice didn’t sound like beach houses in malibu anymore
it was car horns and rooster crows and confounded snores
the only benefit was-
i was trapped up there alone
no one else i could harm with such a hideous voice
haha sometimes i realize that i am a bad writer and sometimes i just like to pretend :)

4/10/22
louella Mar 2022
the flutes are playing and the wind chimes are chiming. they sound melodious and my spine gets tingles. it is seventy degrees outside. the birds are chirping, singing songs i don’t fully understand, but i can get the gist of it. the lyrics of the lark must be different than the crow. soft, slow, and sensual. the sad heron cackles and caws, after all, she did lose all of her chicks. the terrified and melancholy calls of a mother who couldn’t protect her young. but how would i know about this? maybe the heron just sings to let the hours pass by. maybe the wind chimes chime because it’s in their nature to do so. just like i yawn and sigh because life hurts and breathing is the only thing that truly keeps me alive. oh, trying is so hard.
was listening to an old asian music playlist
it was beautiful and inspired this :)

3/7/22
louella Jun 2022
houses becoming space stations
for the next generation
oxygen in a limited supply
looks like the economically disadvantaged
aren’t going to live in the future
sadly, bye bye
about climate change i guess. i wish people would take it seriously
louella Jul 2022
was she just a friend when you kissed her chapped lips?
was she just a friend before we called it quits?
did friends ever equate to the same definition of mine?
you could’ve told me so i didn’t have to waste my time.
never even had a boyfriend

7/22/22
louella Dec 2024
i was certain i wouldn’t become someone that i didn’t recognize.
but now a new year is dawning
and i still have nightmares about exiting my own body
leaving for a discovery
yearning for a change.
there is fog in the front yard,
persistently questioning my virtues
how i stay alive in cold decembers
frozen on the window panes
i have worn out the hearts of many a person
but it’s a new year
and this, i will choose to keep them clean
to follow the hearts that beat in the nighttime hour;
follow my own.
this is pretty bad but i just wanna write.

started with the first two lines
published: 12/26/24
louella Feb 2023
what do i have to bear?
an impromptu regression
to the form i was when i couldn’t feed myself
now i wander on the fields
connecting roads to their familiar destinations
i don’t want to feed myself
the sustenance that enters is a formidable beast
a creature who desperately longs to hurt me
my stomach hungers for a substance that won’t dictate the afternoons i have.
passed out upon a feathery bed
hands clutched to my stomach
as it groans.
when will the nightingale wake me up from this nightmarish disorder?
as though he isn’t already dead on my windowpane
i forgot to feed everyone else in my unbridled purge
once my life ends will i figure out that
the storm can mirror the looks of your body
and it’s not you?
if i saw a glance of my reflection
in the same pool that Narcissus did
would i drown myself because of all the hatred i feel towards myself?
it’s not me in the photographs.
oh, nightingale where do you rest?
the bird of sweet song

2/18/23
louella Jun 2024
i could’ve lived in your irises
now, instead,
all my regrets waltz with their arms tangled
on a whim.
i’m too red in the face to reach out for yours
to dance till the morning sun shines
we’d then have to hide
from the brightness
the lights on our faces.
i’m too ashamed to love you without the dark veil of nighttime that swallows me whole
and i occasionally let it convince me of how this will go.
i’m too embarrassed to love without borders,
even after your friend called us something to consider
and i consider
until i start lying
and pulling on my collar to avoid the subject:
i love you and i do not regret that.
i’ve locked myself up in a castle of my fears
trying to adore you through dungeons and tears
though i can’t seem to tell you
you’re all i want here
besides the night chill in autumn
when you touched me softly
with words, “i am worth it,” and
“i’m so deserving.”
let’s dance till our teeth fall out
rot on the floor
and bury our bodies
to create something more
a whole garden, a lilac, a whispering willow tree,
anything to solidify us into eternity.
i’m so scared i’ll forget the steps to our favorite dances
and accidentally step on your brand new shoes
maybe you’d scream and holler
at me the pure bother
or maybe you’d take them off
and say you never needed them in the first place.
pathetic, i’m scouting for little spaces to hide
i’m so wary of you in this light
but we’ll sing all the songs
the way they were made
and i’ve constructed a million classic cliches
for you to involve yourself in.
the music becomes us, we become the music.
i’m sorry i had to disappear for a moment;
had to get some fresh air, the corridors were buzzing,
i see fireflies, they remind me of you
how they never care who
is watching or witnessing
their perfect glory
even when they are caught in a jar or a hand
they fly away because they don’t understand.

let’s watch these bugs till the morning comes
and the light might creep up, slowly descending on our smiling faces.
i won’t forget,
i’ll never regret you
even when the morning reveals our intentions;
i always meant to tell you anyway.
third thing for today. this is dedicated to you.

6/17/24 (but really 6/16/24)
louella Jan 2023
¿has olvidado la causa de tu existencia?
no es fácil; ¿con qué quieres con esto?

¿te olvidaste el brillo de la luz de la luna mientras mirando al vacío?
¿te olvidaste la luz del amanecer que tocaba la parte de tu espalda más vulnerable?

el pasado es fuerte
más fuerte que los tigres
y tu ambición.
no puedes alcanzar mis manos en tus secretos profundos
así que
dime todas tus luchas
debajo de la luz de la luna.
no me quejaré.

¿te olvidaste el sonido de la lluvia mientras me te abrazaría?
¿te olvidaste cómo se escurría por tu columna vertebral
y te reirías?

te olvidarás los mejores momentos de la vida
si gastas todo el tiempo
estado atascado en tu mente.

ya me olvidé tu cara a pesar de verte anoche
pero no olvidé la manera que me hiciste que me sentí.
la memoria que durará una vida.

no me olvides.
my first big poem in spanish!!!! i hope you love it. i’m not fluent, but i’m hoping to be in a couple years or months. please give me feedback if something sounds wrong, it’s always appreciated!!!!

thank you.

1/27/23
louella Jun 2022
bouncing cars
having
no regard
for anyone
on the block.
chase your
tail
you’re almost
there.
you’ll never
frame me
like the
mona lisa
i won’t be
the reason
you drive yourself
off the road.
reckless driver
careless person.
the smoke
doesn’t rise
over your home.
it must be cold
especially
for a june.
ribs
hearts and
veins and
ventricles
desire
to flee
from out
of your body.
your poor little
self
duh, i’m using
sarcasm.
no regard
but i have
a mind
and i am
not a ditzy
girl
you can’t
manipulate
me to
serve your
every move.
get a servant
for that type
of excursion
you have no
regard.
there was an ad for beer and it inspired this lol. it had no creative direction

6/26/222
louella Jan 2022
i used to come home and cry and shake and hang my head like i had fainted
i used to see open fields and say
“it’s just grass.”
but you know i don’t mean that
cause i am moist from the rainfall
that you cleansed my ash heart with
and now the snow looks like a playful
samoyed dog
running with a purpose stronger
than a passion
leaping and bounding
i touch the heavy air with the palm of my sweaty hands
i dig up your voice from an egyptian tomb
dance in the azure illumination
becoming any creature or being i wanna be
shapeshifting into someone
more pleasurable
amounting to everything since you touched me
you are more than someone who gave me life again after these painful and obedient years
you are an angel in the shadows
in the bloodthirsty hunger of the night
stretching your hand to reach a small body who can’t seem to stop suffering
and even as i direct these poems to you
you can’t even listen in
unless you stumble upon some girl who tries to dream in a world where that is less
likely to
come true
than a physic prophecy
making the pages bleed with my admiration
of the way you cross your fingers
and comfort me during danger
i am lost but around you i am found
and i am starting to think it’s not a coincidence now
oh my gosh

1/24/22
louella Aug 2024
more? there’s nothing to give.
not with my sore pale hands
clutching every last fiber that stands
between our two shapes.
not with my bloodshot eyes
pleading for responses that eat at every surface.
not with my black dying heart
wincing at the sight of every disaster that, in vain, keeps me alive.
not with my hollow brain
the fight or flight tendencies defining the reactions i give.

you want more?
there’s nothing to give.
there never was anything
to give.
i’m still struggling to make friends. sometimes i think there is something wrong with me.

written: 8/10/24
published: 8/21/24
louella Dec 2024
it’s november
time is slower than i remember
but it’s faster and faster.
your body isn’t next to mine anymore,
there are new pains unfamiliar.
somehow i get even sicker
and ache for december or
warmer weather.
literally wanted to write more for this but no thanks haha, it's not even november anymore

11/24/24
published: 12/1/24
louella Sep 2023
gardening hands
sliced wings—
you make me happy
and i don’t mean to sound corny
but it’s true.
i am not in love
but time isn’t creeping behind stone walls
time isn’t slithering like a snake
in this garden
the smile cannot stop before it hits my lips
the river is smooth
and settles in my throat
naturally.
i am not in love
but happiness is clinging to my torn sleeves
all the factory floors where my cold body laid so still
are getting renovated,
new floor plan.
harsh sea waters have calmed
after waging a war of hatred.
i am not in love
but this town feels bigger than usual
this gust of wind upon my head
is slowing by the minute.
the hour does not creep,
it moves along,
no hissing nor shouting nor demanding.
i am not in love
but the night spins achingly through my ceiling
as i beg and beg and plead for the sudden heat of the morning sun
sooner, faster
restrain me
i am not in love
i am only
happy
i feel so good and sometimes i don’t, but i have felt good this entire week and it’s making me nervous because i don’t know how to handle this. i was never taught how to cover up a smile from creeping on my cheeks. i don’t want this feeling to end ever. i feel like i belong and that’s crazy because i haven’t felt that in four whole years. thank you.

9/15/23
louella Jun 2022
the water, though murky
is full of life
in all forms
juveniles, females, males
fish, dolphins, whales
heck, even coral

your heart, though cloudy and guarded
is teeming with life  
a pulse slowed in tempo for love
for stability, for affection

you are like the ocean- though murky- it is still the most beautiful wonder on earth
wrote this at my vacation house. the ocean and the beachy atmosphere always inspires me

6/26/22
louella Sep 2023
ballet slippers on legs i would rather not have
fantasize until i memorize every piece of you
i’ve danced in ovals around the feeling called happiness
a distant land, shangri-la
all for me
and now i look beyond my deformed hands
and see bridges that stop burning themselves
laughs when nothing is even remotely funny
blissfully aware yet choosing to be content
screaming, crying, vomiting

9/21/23
louella May 2024
there used to be a terrifying place i had to go
but you came in with your skyscraper touch, now i have vertigo.
not sick to my stomach, just a little bit distressed
how you would want to see me loved limitlessly and dressed.
these wounds are boils
little coils round my throat
and you look at me long enough for me to almost explode.
never been a volcano, always an accidental surge
now i guess you mean it this time, i will surely self-implode.
never dying alone,
saw you in your overcoat,
we drove twenty miles south to a sweet girl’s house
then, when you saw me falling asleep you said it was time to go.
oh, i’ve never been so carefully watched over,
always straddled the line of being a complete soulless loner.
you are not my owner, when we get much older
do you think we’d be happy with our heads on the other’s shoulders?
you’re so cool.

written: 5/18/24
published: 5/20/24
louella Jan 2022
You wanna hate them? Go ahead
Who said I would be bothered?
Run towards the rainfall
So that the sun doesn’t burn you. Chase
The rainbow and find the gold at the
End of the tunnel.
We are complex. We can love the flames and
The rain at the same time.
I love them with my entire heart
Blind yourself by looking at the sun for
Too long. Sometimes talent isn’t noticeable if
You only look for disturbances.
Catch the fish
And lick the end of your fishing rod.
Have it medium rare and well done.
Since when was violence the solution? Well,
The entire world has lost their diligence and
Dignity
They saved my life a million times
But I guess they sparkle like brilliant
Christmas bulbs
Or look as if they wear lingerie while the
Thunder wrecks every purpose they ever had.
Wield the sword
And set it down for an embrace.
No solid human being could stab someone
Who is innocent...Right?
Maybe the earth ain’t your cup of tea
The earth is mine, don’t you think the sky is
Kinda boring?
Planes and smoke and chemtrails and clouds
And no extra wide open land to spread your
Arms and legs just to become like the breeze
Dreaming away all the fragments of a
Disastrous life, smoking like a burning fire
Of dead bodies.
You will never feel that pleasure. The pleasure
Of realizing the best things in life aren’t
Placed perfectly in front of your eyes.
Some of the worlds most beautiful treasures
Are in the souls of humans who will reach out
A hand and welcome all types of skin color
Nationalities and beliefs. Can’t you see?
You can’t be angry and say you are a
Peacemaker, that would make you a
Hypocrite. You can’t become a crow or a raven
And act like you can’t fly.
With every ounce of your being
You cannot say that you are drowning in the
Ocean when there is only dead grass
Around you. Favoring and biased reasons and
Opinions are blocking every ineffable wonder
This triumphant planet can offer, just because
Of a little makeup or a little dream
Or a life worth spending with those who
Uplift you and go down with the ship with you.
Those blessed beings who prove any human
Who thinks themselves as superior
Is a total imbecile. I love all the secret nooks
And crannies in the dock of the barge
Including all the languages every group of
Ball of skin on this melting globe has. I bathe
In those words as if my tongue could utter
Them. There is something wondrous in not
Being able to understand that clay is a mug to
Someone and Legos is a curse to some
Tribe in the bay of the Pacific Ocean. You can’t
Have a spine tied to your main spine and
Later say your back is broken by lifting the
Heavy weights. No one can go up a mountain
With seven legs and climb it in one hundred
Days. Why don’t we break everything that
Is fixed? That way you could have it your way
And I could have it mine, sis.
But instead you wanna ***** my cleanliness
And urinate in my showers. You said a flag
Can’t be offensive, yet you are gagging
At the sight of the purple color. Don’t you think
At least one straggler, one sinner will drag
You to the pits of hell with them and they will
Desperately say, “It volunteers for our job.”
You know the hyenas get what they get
But the lions make a completely different Flavor out of cloves and sunflower seeds.
You say the heat is making you sweat
Uncontrollably, yet don’t you know you
Aren’t even wearing long sleeves? If the entire
Sick and pandemic ridden planet would
Hold you by his two shaking fingers, would you
Actively want him to put you down or would
You still seek for that validation you
Know you aren’t getting? I don’t get why these
Apes and hornets are taking us out of
Our bliss just to say we are full of malice.
I don’t get why you paint the best of the best
In gritty peachy colors just to make them
Look rusty when they are glittering
And glowing like halos and tropical punch. It’s
Impossible to pretend to be so
Accommodating when you are a serpent
Ready to pounce and **** any force stronger
Than yourself. You can’t defeat love with regret
Or with hostility. Let the rain pour on your
Selfish complexion. With power and with
Rapacity you will never affect me through
A screen or through a fake deity.
You must be dying inside to inform someone
Else of your displeasure.
Remember: The silence of the guitar after
It strummed its last note is more resourceful
Than a billion skin suits floating around
Telling shorter plants to grow taller
When they themselves are mustard seeds
Dull and empty, useless and dispirited
Only shrieking like banshees
Compared to our choirs of praise, singing
“God bless us, God bless them, God bless me!“
Don’t come for my happiness
Or you’re coming for me

1/3/22
louella Mar 2022
i saw the last ray of sunlight hit his back
as if pleading for him not to go
but if you truly, fully, and wholeheartedly love someone
let them walk away freely
just watch them turn back and wave
goodbye is better than no answer
we’ll meet again someday
stop- i’m soft

3-16-22
louella May 2022
someday far from now,
i’ll be sitting on my porch with my soulmate
watching the grass blow in the wind
we’ll go to church
eye the maple leaves as they fall swiftly to the ground
our hands will be glued together
and we’ll watch our dog frolic in the yard
but, that’s someday very far from now
inspired by taking a car ride through ohio.
everything i do turns to poetry lol

5/29/22
louella Jun 2022
it was when you looked at me as the fireworks exploded in your eyes that i realized this is what life should be like

ballrooms and bokeh lights
another poem inspired by the elvis trailer. the part where he looks up in the limo and the fireworks explode. it is so **** beautiful, my gosh. thx for reading.

6/28/22
ok
louella Jan 2022
ok
my head is full of junk and stress and anger
i am aching and my lungs are trying to grip onto any air they can find
beaten and bruised and confused
broken and misused and abused
i am in a worn down infirmary from the 20th century
bleak and mostly dead
young and unread
i am tearing my bed sheets and wishing i could flee
or recycle my carcass in a dumpster
by the penitentiary
  
  i.     am.      ill.      and.   poisoned.   and.  weak

can i just get a little rest or some sleep?
i amShredded  
and this hospital is forbidding
but i am about to go in
overdose from morphine
and become a distant memory
with tear streaks painted like silhouettes all over my detached face
i am frozen in the zone of the capable
drenched and shameful and incapable
can i punch a hole in the wall
or disappear on a private jet
never to be seen again?
in taiwan, bangladesh
china, the southwest
i will forever pray for escapism
and relocation of my barely pumping heart
please, let me retreat from the dock of the discreet
where i will forever become a inaudible nuisance
tortured between chains and bars and reins
anything is better than this pit i have been put in
spit on and inflamed and blamed
dragged and tortured and renamed
struck by the stick
i once hoped of holding in the first place
goodbye, i will decompose into the ground with the mushrooms
and i won’t need to be around anymore to make mediocre jokes
and laugh like the warden is correct in his words
please, i surrender
and i concur
later, i will no longer be a bore to the samurai with swords
i will be trudging through the mountain terrain
praying you will say my name
and i will be excused from the insane asylum because i will finally be deemed
“not insane”
by the nurse wearing slacks
and i will take my unschooled tracks
down the road
where i won’t bleed and toss and turn
i will belong and get along and be reborn
from the ***** of a once valuable opinion
i won’t die and cry and become shy
i will scream and be mean and fly
cause i will fit in somewhere where i knew i would belong all along
far from the president and the residents and my mom
and the fake acquaintances and desperate conveyances and the dark
reaching a pitch where i am silent but as noisy as an alarm
showing off all my parts
without being too nervous to crack a smile
or too anxious and in denial
even though tomorrow may be torture to the soul of the soldier
she will make it out alive
just bruised not misused and abused
just bruised
Who’s nervous for tomorrow?
Me!

In all seriousness, this is probably the best thing I’ve ever written

1/21/22
louella Jul 2022
stuck, writing about every person i come across
my friends, old ones, new ones
excerpts from movies that make me remember why love only exists in the grasp of the cinema
or in the manipulated minds of fourteen year old girls enthralled by the greek godlike men onscreen
confined, writing about people i wish i were, people i talk to on a daily basis
i exercise my brain so i can make it all go away, so i can write about the next person i see
maybe next time, someone will write about me
i wish someone would write about me for a change
7/16/22
louella Feb 19
i feel wasted by hands that graced my body
that have handled me how no one else has touched me.
i live in guilt, ever pressing guilt
that i was used
in ways i did not understand
in ways that only a man can.
to feel discarded, like a body,
just a body, just a vessel,
of skin tied to skin
and when you looked within,
the dive left you weak,
you hesitated to swim.
now i’ve been wasted,
thrown upon the bed
of the truck that you once drove
that drove me off the edge.
when i contemplate too long,
i dream that i didn’t jump,
didn’t wash my body in the foamy sea spray.
i bathe in the guilt that splashes over my head,
ache for a lover that doesn’t regret me
like only a man can.
now i’m mad. i wish i wasn’t, but i am.

written yesterday
published: 2/19/25
louella May 19
there’s only so much more dirt
i can pile over this tomb.
there are only so many doubts
i can bury
until i’m swallowing my tongue.
there are only so many times you can claim
you’re a man
before you start to sound like a child.
there are only so many times i can lie
before you see right through me.
nothing much else to say

written: 5/8/25
published: 5/19/25
louella May 2024
on the water
i feel so alone
no friends
no shoulders to lean on
why did i ever think i was special?


my heart aches to be loved
or just noticed.
loneliness is so alone.
the aching of my heart to be held and cherished.
on the water, the ripples beckon me
must be sweet to be with someone just like you
every bubble combined to make a better system.
i want to combine with you
and be who you’ve always wanted me to be.
i’ll never steal the show,
i’ll never be the girl who belongs
i want to dance; i really do,
but my feet will not pick up or stomp or walk or move.
i only wanted to be soft in your hands
so you could mold me in any way you desire.
and i would comply
because who wouldn’t when they realized that they are so difficult to love.
i wanted to be easy.
easy to understand,
easy to speak with,
easy to love:
that is all i’ve ever wanted to be.
not even a “yours”
just someone worthwhile enough.
the water is beautiful this time of evening
i’m wasting it.
i waste my life
and my youth
and the love i get.
i waste it all,
but i’m so terrified.
so terrified of being alone
it keeps me awake at night.
and then i dream of you
and it’s all better because you patch up my wounds
and you leave my bones just as they are.
i dream of you
and that’s so enormously stupid of me.
i’m ashamed for loving you the way that i do,
but it’s just so simple to.
i’m weak and i’ll never be good enough
but please don’t leave me like this:
completely alone
and wasting my own life
being so scared of everything.
i loved you and i never told you.
i’m so alone;
i couldn’t even convince myself to change that
by allowing you in.
i am a terrible friend. all i ever wanted to be was accepted and loved and actually wanted. and i was and i ruined it. i want to lay in water and wash away.

written yesterday
published: 5/30/24
louella Apr 2022
i write and bruise my fingers just to escape
just to get a remedy for this pain
the pressure stops burning ever so slightly
but the scars still remain
still hang on my flimsy body
making towns and cities and villages
people living inside of my solar system

STOP!
calm down.
they can’t see you.
their eyes are like steel.
like iron.
life kills.
that’s what’s so evil about it.
but you can’t escape the jaws of the inevitable.
you need to stop thinking.
i mean, the overthinking type.
the type of thinking that makes your brain spin.
that escalates every tiny situation.
your pain comes from opening your eyes too wide.
shut them.
breathe.
stop panicking.
you will never be able to escape except in death.
but even the dead are lonely.
even the dead char and sear in pits they were locked in.
stop overthinking.
you write because you want to evaluate what you feel.
not just because it’s the only way to bolt away from crowded rooms and upset stomachs.
don’t bruise your fingers while touching the pen.
stop overthinking.

wAiT...
i think that i get it
sorry for all the run-on sentences
i don’t care much for punctuation
i sure don’t think rapidly about that
i just do it
so, in settings where it matters
everything in my brain halts
and i freeze
why can’t i just breathe?
it pains me to think that i am hurting my own self with my own knives
stabbing me in the heart
i shouldn’t let my hands become numb because of scribbling in the lines
i should press the pen gingerly upon the paper
softly
and i should just do it
without hesitation
just prove i can withstand the erosion
but at least i know
i write to express
and
life kills
that’s what’s so evil about it.
this is kinda like a two-way poem thingy
i experimented, what did you expect?

4/1/22
louella Oct 2023
the grass starts burning beneath callused barefoot feet
with blistered skin, bumps and bruises
shadowy figures form beside the campfire
embers and ashes
fiery and angry
the forest floor is enveloped and murdered
slowed appetite eaten by the pressure
i’m a dog at your feet
so wise but unable to communicate it
fog forms in the still dead woods
bits of my arms chewed clean off
and you’re the wolf with skin dangling from its teeth
pleased with your discovery
inspired by i’m your man by mitski. third thing i’ve written today; i have a lot to say.

10/10/23
louella Oct 2023
does this corner house have space for me?
should i be taller or smaller?
hiding or should i come out from under my bed?
cause there are children
and they’re laughing
and i’m smiling
but who’s counting?
suddenly, the light is not a pale yellow anymore;
it’s gold

beneath darkness, i fold the laundry
i pick the towels off the floor and shower
in freezing cold water
no dry skin, just instinct
cause there are raindrops
that fall like missiles
just not the violent type
suddenly, the moon is not a pale white;
it’s pearl.
i didn’t know what else to call it hehe. about how i felt disposable before (i still do sometimes) and how that has recently changed. some people are so kind.

written yesterday, but published 10/24/23
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