Look at that girl,
she has the body any other girl who struggles
would see and search for a pistol.
See her walking,
she walks on her toes with
headphones in her ears and
skips along the road alone
with her long  brown hair
flowing along her back.
Notice her
sharp move as she
sits on a sofa with music in her
ears,
she gets up confidently and competitively
to talk to
the boys.
If only if only
out of all the boys she could
say hi to and introduce herself,
That one,
remembered who she was and couldn’t
forget and therefore, she
couldn’t resist.
That one,
who offered to put his arm around her
one night watching television,
and Boom,
there was love.
That one,
who she said hi to,
is the reason she is more than a
person from the past but in her life,
she is the one who
survived.
She had not known what this boy was doing,
all abusers are full of excuses.
She did not give up.
She is a full time student,
has a wonderful family,
great friends,
a true new boyfriend,
and for that boy who abused her for her body,
the body may have changed in not so good ways
but she has changed for the better,
and is happier and better informed
than you will ever
think she can
be.
Just remember,
no means no.
*** is a happy thing,
not something we do for ourselves.

Still if it hurts,
I’ll skip the puddles
and remember your scolding
voice telling me not to get wet.
Still if there is nowhere,
I will turn on the shower,
strip from what makes me warm,
stand in the pouring water,
and just think.
Did I have a party to go to?
Is this part of being hung over?
Was that liquor for somebody?
What is this feeling in my stomach?
Still if it hurts,
I’ll find a way to find you.
I will walk in the rain so I don’t park
in your driveway.
I’ll bring the ***** and wine.
Do you want glasses too?
What do I wear?
Should I wear heels and my little black
sequin dress?
Or just jeans?
How about both?
How about nothing? Naked is how I feel
when the wrong word slips out and the
night is destroyed.
That ***** was not opened last night.
I sat and waited for my ride, clocks just
do their job when people never do theirs.
Still if it hurts,
I stare out the window and have the cork opener
waiting at the top of the counter.
The time will come as soon as my
horrible language goes away.
It won’t.
Still if it hurts,
I’m done with you guys.
I can get drunk on my own and wear my dress
whenever, wherever, forever.

Don't be surprised when you go to the shop
and you see a familiar blue guitar, acoustic and
barely used.
There is a reason that guitar is
barely used.
There was a girl who had far too many dreams to come true
of being a rock star folk star pop star anything star.
She learned and practiced,
but what always told her playing and singing just
wasn't good enough.
She ******, she sounded like ****, and she would never
beat a child at the activity of playing guitar, writing songs, and
singing.
She would bring it to parties,
everyone would get up and get a drink as she
played a song.
She would write a song,
people would laugh at her.
She would sing an old tune and play the chords,
people would criticize her.
She got the bravery to play on the grass ground on
her campus but people walking by and drifting away was
a sing of rejection.
She fought hard to still play and not be an expert,
but she lost every ******* battle and war.
There were very few who appreciated,
but who knows if the blue guitar, Luna, is worth keeping.
She was too much of a nervous wreck to play in front of anyone,
sometimes she did, it went well, and she was told it was beautiful.
Luna might have to go in the shop and be sold to someone who is
BETTER and EXPERIENCED and for christ's sake, GOOD AND TALENTED.
That girl, Me, has talent that is BARELY USED
because I am not good, never was, and I
JUST CANT
TAKE ANYMORE
CRITICISM!
If someone doesn't like you talent, it is not a crime.
If you play and sound like ****, it is considered a crime,
but by who?
I know there is room to grow but I just can't fit anymore
time.
I might sell my guitar,
if/when I do,
she will be shiny and blue,
in good condition,
and most of all,
barely used.
I'm just placating to anyone
who laughed, criticized, or
silently booed.
You're welcome.

When someone scolds,
disagrees with my processing speed,
or loses it with me,
I do not fight back with
equal aggression or my
hands turned into fists.
I keep silent,
I have the right to remain that way,
in life,
we do what we desire to do,
what we need to do,
what we love to do,
but most of all,
we do what we are supposed to do.
If we are supposed to bring
respect and happiness to this world,
how in the name of God
do we to do it by looking down at
one another with the most
insincere expression and
raised eyebrows?
Lower your
brows,
lighten your
eyes,
look at someone unlike you
as one who can teach you something new
and not one who gave you the chance
to beat someone and eat
your dust.
Dust is nothing I ever crave
when I feel the need to gain power.
I do what I am supposed to do.
I take a deep breath,
I remain calm and patient,
and though it may be a task yet a chore to
look again at one who condescends or is
rude to me,
I look straight ahead to them.
To all of those who cannot handle
being around a person on the spectrum,
it is that simple to just look straight ahead in someone’s
eyes.
If you have been looking down,
condescending, and
speaking to people who are unlike
you with authority,
You have been doing it wrong
your whole life.
Learn something
from us.
Amen.

I cant help but wonder what your private
conversations were with your
right hand covering the side of your face and
your eyes glaring at the side of the room.
It is only your power in what words come
out of your own mouth.
My mouth was open far too much as well as
my stories and mind and heart as well.
I said random things according to you all,
how could you pass up an opportunity to learn
something new?
A picture is worth a thousand words,
a picture is worth a million when one is cut out.
I cut myself out,
I stopped arriving to your demand,
and the one day I was walking alone,
I saw two of you and you said,
“Nora, we haven’t seen you in like,
a week.”
The stunned expressions, the fact you actually
stopped your steps
to acknowledge
I was
there.
You could have seen a broken heart and
a binge eating princess if I had remained in my
seat at our table at five o clock.
It takes space to understand the need of others,
and it takes space to understand the fact we sometimes
don’t need others.
Not every group can become “family” too soon.
I said the F-word,
and you all said
good bye,
but if it is the behavior that matters,
the lashing, scolding, and condescending addresses
was your way of being bigger.
Never thought I would grow by walking alone.
*******,
now there’s the F-Word I needed to say
all along.

Whenever I look out the window and see the sky on the verge
of a snowstorm,
I look back to the evening I was headed out and I slowed down my walking
because you messaged me.
The time I saw you after that conversation was the day you broke my heart.
Somehow, a year and a half from now I think of you and hope for another chance.
It is all because I was a nobody at the time and being in love with you would make me a somebody.
I shared too much, I over explained, and I slammed a door in your face.
I apologized, I tried to make up, but I only made it
worse.
I know you don’t want me as anything and I understand,
though I learned that
nobody can make me a somebody.
I will do that on my own,
and I think I did a better job than you
would have done.

Are you oblivious, or do you not know me anymore?
Did you know I wanted to talk to you again?
When I walked by you rummaging through your car did you see me? I hope not.
I wanted to say hi but this stomach I have kept playing with knots inside.
My heart pounded like the dome clock of a city.
My instincts said to not go near you, my legs kept walking.
Painfully I walked away this anxiety owned the chance to talk again.
All there is to say is that I saw you.
So now I will officially say,
You're in the past.
I didn't walk by without stopping for nothing.
Good ******* riddance. <3

I laid down in the sand, and only to see.
I heard my name and there you called for me.
The people I knew were all there.
You asked me to throw the ball with you and you offered me
a beach chair.
I laid back down as people smiled and weren't bothered by me.
You were so excited that I arrived, not at all worried.
I closed my eyes, but I woke up the sun had such a strong beam.
Everyone talked amongst themselves, you played with kids I never met,
it was only a dream.
I got up from my towel and watched you play ball.
I asked to join, you said no. I felt my self esteem fall.
I stood alone never knowing that loneliness was a better place.
Vacation was time to relax, but this seemed like time to waste.
Not introduced, not allowed to be near.
I'd join the adult conversations, but I am not one
whom they want to hear.
This is promoting my noticeable insecurity.
So tempted but can't bear to say, you really hurt me.
Not a chance to play ball, only to let you succeed.
I gave you a successful situation, if that is what you need.
Since I still feel I am your friend I respect your wish.
Granted as I go in the ocean alone, I'm a lonely fish.
The dream I had of being included was imaginable and self made.
Hard to tell if I grew up since I didn't follow you, instead,
I stayed.
I did my part, you had your fun, playing football with them in the beach fog.
Spoke to me wide eyed and commanding as if I were a dog.
Your brilliance is there, I heard it all before.
Your lessons are meaningful, but nothing I choose to care for.
I felt and saw the real you and how you changed and how it is going to be.
I'll never forget our friendship,
so maybe one day, again, you will dream
of me.

Hands have too many privileges,
two too many with
five fingers to physically feel.
When the smaller head thinks it needs to be
bathed clothed and fed,
men’s hands will grab the sexiest *****
within their first opportunity.
I was walking with my man,
years ago I was nineteen in college.
We were in a public galleria,
he let go of my hand we were holding hands
side by side.
Before I knew it,
he did it again.
He stood in front of me,
had the most aggressive expression,
and with his hands he squeezed my *******
about ten times and said,
“******* ******* ******* ******* *******!”
I was startled and shocked out of my mind.
We were in public!
Did he not care about who was around us?
How could he disrespect my body?
How could he be so cruel and greedy?
Careless and childish?
Those ***** were mine and still are!
They are nobody else’s!
Today,
I am 23.
I let my eyes naturally look, stare,
and I don’t always know if I blush or smile.
Nobody is allowed to love me
in a romantic way.
Nobody is ever to by “my” man.
I support any man who is attracted to me or interested,
but he cannot have me.
I am naïve, adorable, and apparently beautiful.
Is it my eyes they will see that make me stand as
confident, sharp, and as if I am aware I own myself?
Or are my ***** so big, beautiful, and *****,
that is all anyone has and will ever want from me?
It is my body.
Nobody is allowed to love me.
No,
I will not have dinner with you.
No,
I will not go to the movies with you.
No,
I will not walk in the park with you.
No,
I will not fornicate with you.
I prefer my loneliness as well as my social life.
I don’t need a man ever again.
Nobody is allowed to love me or
feel my body.
Too bad whenever I hug someone
my ******* are in the way.
I love them dear,
I will never love a man ever again.
Who knows what he is really thinking.
Is it his brain?
Or the other
head.
A girl will never know the truth behind a man’s intentions
until she all of a sudden feels a hand
on her body
in the wrong
place.

The day is normal though it reminds me of something.
I step outside onto my beautiful lawn.
I walk in the grass with bare feet
As the dew and grass coat my feet and there I am partly
Wet.
As I leap to the front door to avoid stepping on a
Dead bee,
I slip and fall,
Remembering how you
Pushed me
To the ground back in school.
You thought it was
Funny.
I held a grudge since then.
I see you now,
Years later,
You are pale as a ghost while
I have color on my skin from being out in
The sun.
The bags under your eyes remind me of how
I wanted to make them bleed by stabbing them with my imaginary
Knife.
I’m glad I never had that knife in my pocket.
Rather than slapping you back in the face,
I am the one
Who received the Slap of
Forgiveness.
I once wanted to hurt you
But just seeing you
Made me break my
Grudge.
I’m put together now,
And I forgive you then and now.
I am relieved you were able to see me.
Seeing where you are
Made me not proud but understand
The traumatic circumstances you passed onto
Me.
Don’t worry,
I made sure they were locked away and gone,
And I needed that slap of forgiveness.
No more horrible thoughts.
You are forgiven,
Peace.

I’m happy and sad to see pictures of you where you
are with someone else who makes you laugh.
I strip and cut then drown in the red of my own
blood bath.
Ha.
You thought your power of walking away
could make me die.
I knew someone like you would leave me,
you didn’t even make me
cry.
You chose others not me and I just
want to make peace and set this tension
free.
I know your world is complete,
but someday just please
come back
to me.
The opposite of missing isn’t completion,
it’s resolving.
Though its been about a year,
the memories of you and I are crawling.
They come up my spine and make a
resting stop in my heart.
They pack up and go to my head,
I cringe by the memory when you told me I’m
smart.
You said I was pretty and it was me you
wanted to sit near.
If I approach you again I will either see
you relieved by my sight or I’ll see you
in fear.
Here comes
from my eye
another
tear.

These burdens are scorching.
They lead to feeling nothing
but a burn.
With all my breath I blow it out,
and there it continues in a fiery rage.
I didn't start this ******* fire.
It was lit right in front of me.
My feelings feel hot and dangerous.
But I know it is not something
I can help.

Sometimes you make me
feel the urge and desire to play hookie
and ask any random dangerous man
to light it for me.
There have been days
I have blown off my girlfriends
and gave that time to be alone with you
in a bathroom stall.
You have been one to wreck my decisions.
You are a part of me,
you should love me so I don’t
decide to get on the back of a motorcycle
with someone I never met.
Who knows where I will go?
I pay for every time you
told me to put the fork down and
you wouldn’t let me eat.
I thought I had you and would
never let go of you.
I saw a young girl who looked
like I did before I dedicated
my thinking to you.
She had a teddy bear in her hands
and looked at me scared.
It was you who told me to blob my eyes
with liner and keep my hair in my face
so nobody would see my black eye.
That girl reminded me that I did fine without you.
I am glad I stopped thinking of you
and dealt rather than keeping you.
I don’t love you,
Bipolar Depression.
I never let anything or anyone I have
dictate my life.
Your phases come and go,
and when they do,
it breaks up my health, my dignity,
and my relationships.
Friends come first,
so I deal with you.
I live a better life once I am
done with you.

Your happiness and joy is to be provided by all
when we are all down here together.
Your needs and requests are to be fulfilled by all
when we are all down here together.
You are welcome in conversation to lecture us all
and interrupt me when we are all down here
together.
You are bragged about and fawned by your mother
as she gloats about you being a
confident,
smart,
God.

I am a joke to you.
I gave up the cheerleading squad so
I could be away from those who would
pick on me.
I sacrafice an hour each week so I can
talk about what I really don't want to.
I have no friends when I am down there
but ostracized by the minute when I am
down here.
It is all
for you.

You better be happy after you see your mother
and my mother get so frightened as I open my
mouth to speak.
I'll shut mine if you shut yours.
Deal.
Just learn to enjoy me
for once.

If you could read my mind,
you'd want to hold it close to
your heart.
Your clutch would keep it warm
and you would forget the universe as your
tears would be clear enough for you
to look back into my eyes.
See me standing there not upset at all for what I do.
Perhaps I don't know how to express my
feelings of the many of us together.
Whether I'm sad when I am ignored by you for my ideas,
Or happy that you can understand me,
something in me gets released and thrown
into a swarm of dragon flies just trying to
make peace by being there but only create
chaos in Hell's point of view.

If you could read my mind,
I dare say you would be upset with yourselves.
Only the ones with great sympathy and who
think of me will want me to exist more in
their mind.
Let's turn that into
existing
with no shame
or
consequences in the great world we fell into and here we met.

If you could read my mind,
you would not be the same for a day.
I expect you to get up in the morning,
and wear something that is not to impress but to speak from the outside.
Once you saw the pictures and words in my mind of us,
You might then
understand.

Seeing you every summer was like a
challenge.
I had to hide my remedial sources to
prove I was not special,
I could be normal.
You were precocious and had the world
at your feet.
You displayed through your words and
actions every day that you were not kind,
you had condescending traits.
Back then we were only adolescents.
I had no idea what I had and you were the
lead at everything you did.
You had the solos, you had the grades, you
had the friends, and you had the fawning adults.
I never hated you for it, I had bad grades, I had no friends, and I was criticized by the adults.
My solo was poorly performed as I had to do my thing and you played with others.
As we grew over the years and kept our traditional meet up over the summer,
I play my solo by having no phase of being alone for a moment.
My challenge for you is to try it and not be the guy with a million friends.
You will be surprised how much you learn from others who are less, and being surrounded by less.
I'll learn from you, you learn from me, and let's teach everyone to accept our friends who may not walk the same path but still walk with us.
You'll find yourself walking alone with a bit of happiness.
Trust me, it feels good sometimes.
I mean it as a friend.

Returning to the village sounded like a nightmare
at first.
I’d be ignored and hate the few streets I was
permitted to roam.
I returned to the village and forgot what I
feared.
I received thousands of hello and everyone
came back to me all at once.
Sometimes when we are apart
we philosophize and teach ourselves to become
angry at the hard times.
Hard times come and go, and friends take
time to be family.
Respect is there and hate is nowhere.
I’ve never been this happy.