the old school i went to was filled with the best, worst, and funniest memories. i only talk to four of my friends from that old school; i don’t really ever talk to two of them, but i have texted them. it doesn’t really matter. there’s so many people that have come and gone that i’m not even phased anymore.

1. dear s, you. oh, you. you were a strange soul, but i always remember respecting you. my other classmates said you were really weird. you peeped over stalls and you loved this one kid, (i’ll get to him later) you got so sad when you had to leave in kindergarten. i missed you back then, i don’t miss you now. i barely remember you anyway.

2. dear t, so.. you were technically my first kiss. i chased you around on the tar playground thingy and i kissed your cheek right before the teachers rang their end of recess bell. you were my first love, i like to claim jokingly. i played some foolish kindergartner game with you and when you left in first grade, i had no more reason to play. so i didn’t. we had play dates at your house. your cat bit me, your sister was running up and down the stairs, you showed me your bunk beds, and you hid me under a blanket fort so that i didn’t have to go back home with my father. you gave up peanut butter for lent because of me in kindergarten. that’s honestly the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. you now go to high school with me and i don’t think you recall. that’s insane to me.

3. dear s, i just remember you being best friends with the kid i mentioned above. you were quite shy and never talked much. i never really got to know you. the only thing i recall about you is that you had to put things in your shoes and you broke my best friend’s front tooth.

4. dear a, you and i played with toys together and we got along quite well. i was upset when you had to go. you were pulled out of class to be placed into a better school? i was bummed. i think i still see your face pop up into my mind occasionally.

5. dear j, you were the best at dodgeball and i always thought you were kinda odd, but i am too so… i don’t know. i went to your halloween party one year and you didn’t even speak to me. luckily i never wanted you to. i was a dog that year. when you left, it was just another person leaving. i hope you’re good now.

6. dear a, you came in third grade. everyone disliked you. it could’ve been the way you always read books while the teacher was teaching or the way you bit the collar of your shirt and your lips would get so red and chapped. when you left, everyone rejoiced. (no offense.) i was never really friends with you anyway.

7. dear p, i don’t really remember you much. your brother and your sister..possibly? if you had one…were really weird. no offense, i promise i’m not judgmental. we never talked much, that’s literally all i remember about you lol. hope you’re good.

8. dear p, you were a very interesting person. you sang let it go one time and said Hell instead of Heaven in the lyrics and everyone at my table was shocked. (that was in third grade.) you called yourself some weird name and everyone looked at you strangely when you did. you pinned one of my classmates against the wall and tried to kiss him. that was very creepy. you got sent to boarding school and i haven’t heard anything about you since. i hope you settled down after those years.

9. dear e, you always tried to steal my dessert that was in my lunch. (i’m pretty sure it was you who did that.) i cried to my parents about that. thankfully you stopped. one time, we played jenga and we couldn’t stop laughing so we had to go to the bathroom. i was peeing my pants i was laughing so hard. that is honestly one of my favorite memories. you got mad at me for how i read and you were a horse girl, but other than that, you were a good friend. you go to my new school now and you definitely don’t remember me. you’ve still got that red hair and those freckles. you look the same. i miss you a little.

10. dear s, you were my best friend. i got to show you around the school as a resident, (idk lol.) i complimented your lunchbox on that day. later on, i would stay a little after class so you could gather your hefty science book in your arms and we would walk up the staircase together. my cousin and my sister always claim i had a crush on you, but i never did. i was very upset when you left the school. you now walk around the halls of my new school with your head lowered to the ground. i wish i could make you happy like i used to. i honestly miss you. i really do.

11. dear b, i thought you were funny, but you were always disrespectful to the teachers. you once did this insensitive imitation at lunch. i didn’t want to sit next to you cause you would spit your food everywhere. you were the worst kid i think i ever knew. i once said to you “die in a hole cause you really are dirt.” maybe that’s why you claimed people at that school bullied you. but you were popular and everyone loved you, right? you could be pretty mean yourself. you go to my new school now as well, i don’t know if you recognize me, but i definitely recognize you. you’re a lot more tame now, i think.

12. dear a, i went to your birthday party and everyone was shocked since i never went to any party i was invited to. it was a lot of fun, you considered me as a friend then. but when i said hello to you a year after you left that school, you didn’t say anything back. i was humiliated. i missed the version of you back when i had to move my seat cause another kid and i were getting too rowdy. we sat beside each other and we became best buddies. perhaps only on my end. you came from minnesota and you talked about how cold it got and what scary tornadoes looked like there. you liked my stupid best friend, but you never even liked me, i’m guessing. everyone at my new school hates you. i don’t think you go there anymore. i never really liked you anyway.

13. dear z, you were fun. you were always quite fond of me. you saw me on the playground of the other middle school and wanted to say hi. i was afraid and didn’t think you really wanted to. but i said hi anyway. i told you that your mom looked like mine one time and i think you laughed or something. you go to my new school and you stare at me like you remember me, perhaps you do. i miss you.

14. dear e, the art teacher used to say that she wanted your hair type. she tried it one day, it looked awful, and i don’t even know why. it was kind of weird how obsessed she was with that. on the first day you came to school, you read two paragraphs too much about smoky the bear. how do i even remember that? we were the rowdy bunch in second grade. we laughed at everything. in fourth grade, you did something really creepy that i don’t even wanna say. i won’t out you like that. you were rich and pretentious, bringing fiji water bottles to school every day, but i miss you. i don’t know where you are now.

15. dear s, i had the fattest crush on you in fourth and fifth grade. everyone in my class liked you, it was kind of funny. my best friend even liked you. it was crazy, i tried denying it, but everyone knew anyway. (you actually liked my best friend though, you said some weird things about her.) i almost killed you one time. i gave you a peppermint because you asked for it and you started choking on it and had to run to the bathroom. our teacher was so worried for you, and i hid my head in shame. you were fine though; you didn’t snitch on me. you told me i was strong and you picked me to do a project with. i was so shocked and happy that you wanted me to be in your group. my sister said we were best friends, but i never thought we were. i really thought i was that unlikeable. i miss you? that’s a question.

16. dear b, in seventh grade you would only stand beside me during sparkle or whatever game we played. (if you never played sparkle, you haven’t lived.) my friends would call you out on it, especially a, but you would just smile and say nothing. one of the only male teachers was obsessed with you, probably cause he didn’t want you to feel left out. you almost cried every time you couldn’t solve an english sentence or when you got a c on a test. you were a wreck. i don’t even know what school you go to now, but i guess i wish you the best.

17. dear a, scratch what i said about the other kid being the most troublesome person i ever came across. you brought the board game chameleon to school and i had a blast playing it. sometimes you would cheat or stop halfway through the round and it wouldn’t be as fun. i defended you once to a teacher. you called her assignment dumb and she said, “are you calling me dumb?” and i was like, “no, he’s just calling the work dumb.” and you were like, “yeah.” you rarely came to school and i was shocked when you would actually turn up. a rumor flew around that you got expelled and God only knows where you are right now. prison? lol, probably not.

18. dear m, we sat on the same bus together and we laughed in the back every day. we both “hated” each other. we had debates on who could stand out in the freezing cold longest. it was me, always me. you once left in third grade after an ice cream party, but then came back. you left in sixth for good. you still live in my neighborhood, but i never see you. i miss you.

19. dear c, you were the most fun person i ever met. you told jokes and they rolled off your tongue so easily, you made me laugh on my most difficult days. you touched my neck one time as a joke and we talked about it from then on. you would always mention it. you called me so many funny nicknames and i know for a fact you started liking me. you loitered around my locker and tried any chance you got to talk to me. it was very flattering. i miss your laugh, your weirdness, your enthusiasm. i miss you more than most of the others for the attention and the kindness you showed to me. you didn’t show up to our graduation cause of covid and march thirteenth is the last day i ever saw your face. i wish with all my heart that that wasn’t true.

20. dear k, you were knowledgeable about everything and i always thought you were a know-it-all. you were never particularly nice to me, but again, i didn’t really notice. you snitched on people so much. you liked my best friend too and you wrote her a note and asked her if she liked you back. you both go to the same school and you talk to her a lot. that’s upsetting. i think you remember me and it’s awkward. sorry.

21. dear k, you were my best friend. we were partners in crime, but i’m not gonna write you a huge letter since i have written about you so many times and the wound just gets deeper every time. we sat together in every class. one time, we had a substitute teacher and we both changed seats so we could sit together. we got snitched on the next day. ugh. i miss you extremely. you wander the halls of my new school and you’re just everywhere and i can’t shake you. you hate me, i just know it.

22. dear c, you got ridiculed for your weight and i might have participated once. my friends joked about you needing to use head and shoulders because you had dandruff. i’m sorry. my one friend would act like i had a crush on you and he would make you sit next to me to see if my face turned red. i hated it, but i could tell that you didn’t mind. i have little clue where you are now. i don’t really miss you.

23. dear k, i’ve seen you a couple times since going to my new school. you’re still best friends with one of my good friends that stuck. we went to an escape room together and we laughed like old times. you’re shy like me and you make me feel comfortable. i hope to see you again soon.

24. dear c, you and i would fool around before class every day at seven thirty. it would get annoying sometimes, but i never acted bothered. i don’t like to make people feel like burdens. we would do morning announcements and i like to think that we were really good friends. i’d like to think that you thought that too. there was something about you that was just so welcoming. i miss you and i wish we could’ve kept in contact so we could’ve hung out more. my friend saw you at the ice cream shop the other day and it would’ve been cool if i had been there too.

25. dear a, you sent me a message and you don’t know how much that meant to me. i even wrote a **** poem about that, (don’t think i’m crazy though hehe.) you asked me about school and i took a whole ten minutes to answer because i didn’t know. should i have lied or told you the truth or what? so i just said it was good, just different. and then you showed me pictures of your new cat and her scratches on the drywall. she was a cute kitten. you wanted me to go to basketball games at other schools and i always came up with an excuse on why i didn’t go. dang it, i regret not going now. after my best friend left school, you and i became closer and we sat up in the math room together figuring out confusing problems. i miss spending time with you and i miss seeing your wet hair in the morning. i hope we can reunite and meet up soon.

26. dear s, you couldn’t go to the restaurant you wanted to for your birthday because you misbehaved. i told you about that incident a few months ago and you claimed it never happened. it did. my friends all used to pick on you since you were such an easy target. you don’t get social cues so i rarely ever try to joke with you. you said my voice was pretty when i was singing and i have always hated my voice so thank you for boosting my nonexistent confidence. you left in kindergarten, but came back in third grade and you were gonna go to a different high school, but you’re stuck where i am. we text now and we have lunch and class together. it’s fun hanging out with you sometimes.

27. dear f, i write poems about you all the time and it’s kind of embarrassing. at least you’ll never read them. in fourth grade, my old crush said you had a crush on me and i brushed it off. i know you still did all the way to eighth grade. you gave me so many nicknames and all of them made me laugh. you placed things on top shelves and put your arms against walls to show how much taller you were than me. i liked it secretly. we had spelling and academic contests together. you won some, i won spelling. i miss you more than everyone else i think, even though you made me feel like disgusting trash everyday. you’re the reason i still call myself ugly in the mirror. thanks. i still miss you, do you miss me?

28. dear j, you’ve helped me so much through high school and i don’t think i’ll ever be able to thank you enough. you introduced me to so many people and they have been excellent friends to me. we were never super good friends back then, but now we are. we text and we laugh and we have inside jokes and it’s all i could’ve ever wished for. you used to be a snitch, but you aren’t anymore. we have three classes together this year and i can’t wait to see you again on the first day of school. see you there.

and these are all the people who have shaped me into who i am,
wherever all of you are at this moment, thank you for spending most of my life with me.
thank you.

𝘆𝗼𝘂 wake up and 𝘆𝗼𝘂 smell the flowers and 𝘆𝗼𝘂 yawn and make coffee for 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳
𝘆𝗼𝘂 live in a demonic world and 𝘆𝗼𝘂 look through it with demonic eyes
the floor shakes under 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 weight and 𝘆𝗼𝘂 feel every single step 𝘆𝗼𝘂 take
𝘆𝗼𝘂 pose in front of the million dollar camera and 𝘆𝗼𝘂 smile at the homeless laying barefoot on the street
but do 𝘆𝗼𝘂 give them money?
they sit there in rags and they beg and 𝘆𝗼𝘂 watch them and 𝘆𝗼𝘂 reply “have a nice day”
𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 clothes are made of silk and 𝘆𝗼𝘂 go to work in fancy wear every single waking day
𝘆𝗼𝘂 sleep in linen sheets and 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 pillow is so soft that 𝘆𝗼𝘂 fall into the night so easily
𝘆𝗼𝘂 wave to passerby’s in cars and 𝘆𝗼𝘂 yell across the street to girls 𝘆𝗼𝘂 find pretty
𝘆𝗼𝘂 strut in the alley, but only the one with twenty plus people
𝘆𝗼𝘂 switch sidewalks when 𝘆𝗼𝘂 see a man with a rapid heart rate who’s walking faster than usual due to being late
𝘆𝗼𝘂 grimace at him and 𝘆𝗼𝘂 continue along 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 way
𝘆𝗼𝘂 don’t tuck 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 kids in bed at night cause 𝘆𝗼𝘂 don’t have any
𝘆𝗼𝘂 don’t cry when falling onto the comforter, 𝘆𝗼𝘂 laugh instead
𝘆𝗼𝘂 online shop during the midnight hour and 𝘆𝗼𝘂 purchase Indonesian products that were made in sweatshops
𝘆𝗼𝘂 don’t condemn those who killed for no reason, but 𝘆𝗼𝘂 don’t have such ruthless shower thoughts, i suppose
𝘆𝗼𝘂 witness the moon glimmer in the desolate night as the world remains still
𝘆𝗼𝘂 fall asleep quickly and 𝘆𝗼𝘂 repeat
𝘆𝗼𝘂 do this all when the sun hasn’t risen for some
the moon hadn’t shined in the darkest of nights
the war was fueled with gaslighting and bombs
the fog hasn’t lifted, it barricades the doors of little houses
the street wasn’t bright enough and someone got tackled
the gun hasn’t stop shooting in the courtyard
the prayer was never uttered from such posh lips
the emptiness never ceased to exist
how could 𝘆𝗼𝘂 be so selfish?

the sand is between my toes
all my foes have gone south for the
long winter
they are crashing beach waves
unable to reach my shore

the vibrant burning flesh
lingers harshly on our legs
entangled
between nightgowns and laugh-out-louds
the dim midnight candles flicker
bitter wind grazes past so gently
and yet so recklessly

there is a sunlit radiance
lit up on your face
a certain kind of experience
brings forward such impetuousness
effervescent and streaked with purpose
you glow with such precision
inside a hotel suite bound for secrecy
and pretending to be
who we are not, who we wish we were

i was young sun-kissed skin
incandescent
lucidly dancing
in childish daze
astray
in foreign
places
cabaret
underage
dizzy and unhinged
but somehow still so poised
in violet tenderness
with your soft lips
on mine
such subtle ties
impossible to memorize
we are fragments of misplaced puzzle pieces
deliberate looks on sweltering beaches
we are undefined
in the white
heat of summer
nights

stares that tarnish
secure fires
by the beachside
there are sudden nerves in
self-proclaimed fearlessness
awestruck teenagers
intoxicated in the
unforeseen appearance of lust, misconstrued as love

the balconies with ivy over the edge
spill over the cloudless yellow coast
wild cerulean waves bathe the air in slight showers
careful hand grabs
heat lightning
fever struck adolescence
soak in twilight sweat beads
ebullient girls with brunette bouncing curls
in the wake
your waves
crash against my figure
leaving spots touched by the sun
handprints,
and your scent remains on
me
as you alluringly
twist the shape of the universe
around
our own accords
the dawn licks our faces
as we wake up to the soothing noises
of boats rising then
tumbling upon the ocean current
like
your magnetic field pulls me
into swift contact upon auberge floors  

we become the matters we take
in our own hands
we become two shapes glistening
in the pale hush of nightfall

you are a fleet upon my shoreline
in mid-december
in the decline
of the seasons.
my impulse is to keep you captive
in an ocean net made to capture fish
i am not unforgiving so i despise this new version of me
there are shipwrecks to be uncovered
and sandy shores to be explored
there are glass shards in the hearth of my heart
they’re from shattered mirrors lying beside the bedside
that i drove a single fist in upon interpreting the impersonal reflection
i have remorse for the way my lighthouse light caused your tiny rowboat to become one with the island i inhabit
i have regrets for the way i watched your salt-licked body drag itself to shore
and let the possibility of you dying linger gently
i let the sea swallow you too quickly
if i obstruct my view, it’s just the lapping of the sea;
just the constant reminder of its immensity.

my old classmate had a written hit list
one of my teachers was in bold red lettering
i wish i had been on it

i feel like i don’t give the benefit of the doubt for the victims of my poems
they have their own sides of the stories
that they’ll never be able to tell

the moon has craters because those are the steps i envisioned taking before i was born
i was sent to earth instead

panic is the worst responder to stress, but it’s usually the first

hotels are small pieces of home i never got

i am afraid to drink a glass of alcohol
i don’t wanna lose control
besides my mother’s dad was a raging alcoholic and i don’t wanna be like him
his own sister says he’s unbelievably stupid
i don’t want my sister to call me a wreck so i won’t get drunk like other twenty year old kids

i didn’t learn to tie my shoes until the fourth grade because i wanted to ground myself
i ended up breaking an iPad when i learned
was it worth it?
i broke a screen, but earned a skill, cool
i was face-timing my best friend while playing basketball in a made-up hoop when i cracked that screen
the iPad is far gone now, so is she

had boughten lunch all throughout school because i always had to be different than other little children
(i didn’t chose to be)

my favorite artist is one who endured abuse by her boyfriends and possibly her mother
what does that say about me?

never been scouted out by polite boys or cute boys or any boys at all
a few liked me at my old school
but i haven’t seen them for years
and one of them called me ugly
reverse psychology?

always loved holding old fashioned phones to my ears to pretend to be more elegant than i actually am

recently, i have been scared of everything
journalism class, my two name alias at school,
junior year creeping up on me, myself
I JUST WANT TO BE SURE, DANG IT

you know,
they say
when one door closes,
another one opens.
well, when
my door closed,
someone’s hands
came to my neck.
her eyes were so gentle,
gentle in a way that
is innocence masked.
she strangled the visible life
out of me.
she pinned me to the floor.
and when i tried slipping the story
out
into the world,
they laughed in my face.
so i thought this wasn’t normal behavior.
i was supposed to appreciate something unwanted,
some invasive beast.
i was supposed to accept my fate,
leave my life in the hands of a black swan.

you see, she crawled into my soul,
stuffed her face into my ribcage.
she lapped up every inch of me that was
left
standing
in the sun.
her eyes were bullets
yet it was always the same response of
“you’re a target, you should love the sound of gunfire.”
no, i am a gaping wound,
bleeding guilt,
bleeding out the remains of my foolish heart.
i bleed alone.
i am seeping blood.

she slammed the door so fast
and i could not look back;
there was not a new door to unlock.
i stood there helpless, stunned, shocked.
the fire violently grew
but somehow they didn’t see.
somehow they didn’t try to help,
they didn’t come to rescue me
from these depths.
they came to gawk and make jokes
at the expense of my life.
i couldn’t cry
because
the weakness would seep from my pores if i did,
it would show on my trembling lips,
it would put an end to my pride.
yet
what is pride
but a selfish desperate emotive response?
i am weak.
she pushed through my dry wall
and she
taught me how to unlearn careful choices.
she stole the human from me,
i was left as a naked, erratic wild animal.
yet she was always the one with bright white fangs
that pierced through my satin skin
and an apology was never exchanged.
i never wanted to shut the door
to my safety,
i never wanted to wind up in a creepy alley
beyond where i recognized the area.

and,
what did you call me
but a weak
and pathetic little creature
who can’t defend his honor?
why have you stripped me of my dignity?
i reel below your throne
coughing up childhood innocence and
disgust.
and they didn’t believe me
even when i clawed at my walls
begging to be saved,
they turned away.
they shook their heads.
they made me a liar.
they made me think i did the wrong thing
by being there
by not using my fists for power.
in my ravaging pits of darkness,
she blamed me.

you know,
they say
when one door closes,
another one opens.
but where is the doorknob
to my destination of
believing?
where do i turn now that you pillaged
the trust from my bones
using blunt force?
after you left me with my heart in my ****** hands
and the self that i don’t recognize in the mirror.

who did you leave me as?

maybe i was never meant to fit in
i am the bystander
the sidestepper
the ignorant
maybe i was never meant to mean anything
i was supposed to be the “maybe”
or the “later”
and i am so so so so sick of this
my voice is cracking as i speak and yell and scream
notice me!
don’t keep me around if i do no good
this must be torture
or meaningful
for some stupid stupid reason
maybe i should just run to russia
or stop dang TRYING
stop TRYING to impress every stranger
stop TRYING to impress people my age
stop TRYING to become someone i ain’t
stop TRYING to be a friend or a side piece
i will just race my own shadow in a field of flowers
i will ALWAYS win
cause me myself and i can’t ruin anything
that’s exactly how i should be

i harbored the monster inside of me
fed it juice and the best parts of me.
now honestly,
i just wish he would go away.

everything we ever did is now collapsing in front of my feet
barefoot and dragging over glass shards, fire sparks, and your skull.
i feed the monster
my insecurities
and it lays them in its teeth.
takes you from my liquid hands
leaving me empty handed
every
time.

everything you are is everything i am not
….will never be
radically selfish, i am, causing you pain.
the monster screams and screeches and i have to give in
every
time.

my teeth are glass and they puncture your perfect skin.
the monster laughs at my attempts
he tells me you don’t want me here, don’t love me.
he feeds me lies;
i believe them
and i am ashamed
for i let him get away with it
every
time.

i am ashamed that i have let you burn
every
single
time.

everything you ever did for me
is wasted and washed away.
i want to forgive myself,
but he will not let me.
he will not let me be free.

in the critical marsh of florida
he is still on the dock of the boat
cautiously & causally counting the cattails
poking up out of the half river half sea
half possibility
i am continuously confused with what you do
you were left by the marina
accidentally
and you reek of algae and a summer fling
while i participate in pretending just like your father did
losing your future to a buck of independence
lose your future to an underdressed miss
lose your future to me.

i love my body
my waist that isn’t the slimmest
but it’s doing the job
my lips aren’t the fullest
but they can taste
i admit i used to hate my legs
i despised the way they fell together
no thigh gap
plump in the mirror and through my judgmental eyes
but i had body dysmorphia
and she was so cruel to me
hitting me and shaming me for every little crease and imperfection on my body
she obsessed and i listened
and i cried and i watched myself twenty four seven
but now my legs are powerful
they could take down anyone
they’ve got a mind of their own
idk when i started loving every swoop and curve and turn my body took
i still think my stomach is too fat
it’s not flat enough
and i would and still **** in to create an effect as if i didn’t eat the two burgers
that i only ate one
but i know i shouldn’t be perfect
i should be human, after all
but how am i supposed to adore the parts of my stomach that don’t look like other womens’ do?
eat less, don’t bloat, stop drinking or you’ll float
i don’t take that type of criticism anymore
my body ain’t perfect
not even a bit
but i am human
what’s wrong with it?
cause it’s a built in truth teller
i won’t let any man stick around who doesn’t beg at my feet
and touch my body as if it were blessed by God
who doesn’t dream of tracing every edge of me and doesn’t say i’m pretty
he better wanna explore every part and dive in deep
love me in my rawest form, beautifully
i will leave him if he uses me for my body
i will love him if he waits for me
you know a body is just a outer wall
for the goopiness and strength of ones heart
so i will love my body
because it is a part of me
and not obsess over it
because it doesn’t matter at all to me

you say you don’t love him anymore
yet you always blush and turn pink when he’s around
you get giddy and you tell me to do things
and if i refuse, you speed walk in the other direction
you still have a bonfire buried deep inside those smoking lungs
your soul keeps gathering sticks
your heart keeps lighting matches
inflaming and heating up the blazes of the man-eating fire
you say you don’t love him anymore
but he still affects your ethereal smile
he still changes your attitude
and you will never not love him
so stop lying to yourself
and stop letting him capture your mood
and put it in a russian doll
layers upon layers
without discovering the truth
you say you don’t love him anymore
but i know you still do

i saw you with your chariot of horses in the sky, sparkling brighter than the cosmos
perpetual glory seeping out of your crystal eyes, beckoning the stars and the sun and the moon and the milky way
i was frozen on a cushy cloud, drifting on strong gusts of space matter
you kissed the universe and the black hole almost swallowed you whole
when you saw me, you lifted Heaven with your ******* and guided it towards me
the gates shimmered as i glided closer
your ravishing voice rang in my ears, it felt like angel choirs singing
you sculpted planets with the tiny blue powder inside my eyes and filled my heart with fragments of stardust
iridescent galaxies twinkled, enveloping my earthly body in sparkles
his chariot of stallions floated, leaving this part of the galaxy as a gift for my celestial self
he waved his heavenly hand and disappeared into the constellations
the solar system; undisturbed, goes back to how it was
a triumphant smile creeped onto my cheeks
he owns the cosmos and the galaxies and now he owns my heart

what if i never marry?
what if i put on my wedding dress for a hologram?
what if i never find you?
the you i see on tv, the you i see in my dreams?
what if you died long ago and i’ve been searching around every corner for your soul?
what if the songs i write can only ever be for me?
what if the life i wished to lead up and left me?
what if the movies i watched made me believe in love that never happens?
what if the ring doesn’t fit my finger perfectly, or the bells refuse to ring at the ceremony?
what if i never marry?
what if i can’t get a house that the two of us fakers can live in?
what if the world that told me having a boyfriend makes your value increase
stops tolerating my independent nature?
what if i can’t fit in with all the husbands and wives and the cute little smiles?
what if everything i’ve been told was garbage that was supposed to be taken out?
what if i never marry?
what if i never walk across the aisle to a crying man, a diamond in the blood?
what if he never takes my hand with a willing body or a purified gland?
what if he tells me my worth is measured by the bodies i pin down and claim as my accomplishments?
what if i never marry?
what if i’m never good enough for this dramatic licentious frantic zombie nation we call the world?
what would they think of me?

i’m sick of the fake world of social interaction
slouching, but pretending when someone asks
“haha, you should totally go for it,” when i don’t even support such a decision

also you should have showed me that story too
although it’s so cringe and i could do without
it
but i’m bad with people, talking, chatting
being a person of substance
substantially
i spilled my sticky juice down my hands
and pretended like it wasn’t uncomfortable and awkward
some weird kid i try to call my friend just hit my other friend’s boyfriend
like an infantile sociopath
now i am getting off topic
but
in my classroom
why are people saying being like that is a sin?
they aren’t even smart enough to believe who God really is
how sad that they’ll never be wasted
until they get burned
and maybe yesterday was awful
but maybe today is way worse
because i am fed up with everyone
(i don’t wanna curse)
i hope there’s no more rolling eyes and annoyed glances coming out from me
or maybe you should just be less annoying
yeah, be less annoying,
children

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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

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

and suddenly,
a burst of sunset licks the tops of the buildings
i am a young lady wearing silk
that dips down below my hips and my knees
he’s wearing black leather
tailored suit and wrinkled button-down
he leads me up to the rooftop
on spiraling staircases twisting fate inside their creaks
he drapes his suit jacket over my shoulders
as the dusky chill sweeps between our bodies
my hand clutched in his
resting my head on his powerful chest
the riviera unraveling the stealthy secrets of night
little sweat beads cling to our foreheads
the dry air enters our mouths
and we are speaking so eloquently
in different languages
swallowing our egos
as a haze splits the atmosphere
and i start to see your brown eyes fill with reminiscence
the moon caught in your eyes
like your pupils are the ocean waves
and their changing tides
and i’m smiling with my eyes
with my cheekbones
and i’m laughing at every single one of your jokes
and i don’t feel alone
and suddenly,
i’m wading in the water up to my ankles
and you’re grasping my hand
as if you’d never even think to let go
and i’m splashing around like a overgrown child
frolicking as you stare at me with such peace
and contentment
your embrace comes over me like the foamy waves
and i don’t hesitate

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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?

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.

¿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.