Ice cream melts on my hand,
My face is dripping as I get off the keg stand.

I tug insecurely at my braids, the left thicker than the right.
**** I've gained weight, my skirt is too tight!

I shed a tear, I've stubbed my toe.
I failed an exam five times in a row.

I stayed up so late watching TV.
"Her abs are killer!" I stare with envy.

I can't find my new favorite pen.
I lost mine. Can I hit off yours, my friend?

My shoes don't twinkle anymore,
What did I do to make them call me a -

The flurries of a crush swooned in my belly.
I remember fixing my ivory headband and tidying my cornflower blue sweater,
before you picked me up from school so we could eat dumplings together.
Your hands struggled with the chopsticks, I guess I wasn't a great teacher, but you tried and I found your effort charming.
You pulled out two pins and a small white cat, a little gift for me.
    Like a chameleon,
    I turned red, mimicking the Sichuan peppers adorning the fried wontons on our plates.

Being with you brought me ease, my mind was at rest because you thought for me.
Of course,
once the problems got too big, they weighed far too heavily on us.
And I, a meek mouse, could hardly sustain the issues in my head.

Being in love felt wonderful-      -and finding myself feels glorious,
                                                                                                              too.
We plotted our seeds in two different pots. We weren't meant to grow together forever.

Am I so silly
For sprouting possibilities of us
with my hand in enveloped in yours
If I haven’t gotten myself together to talk to you yet?
In my mind you’re as sweet at flan, or condensed milk on bread.
You could be a ****.
You could talk back to your mother,
Or worse, litter.
I wouldn’t know
Because I haven’t gotten myself to talk to you yet.
I observe your outfits. Some could say I borderline stalk you.
In a way that makes me cute because I’m so curious, but if our roles were reversed you’d definitely be called a creep.
I just want to observe you without getting too close.
The anticipation of rejection still worries me.

I told my mother about you, so don’t disappoint me.
Then again, how could you? Especially if I haven’t gotten myself to talk to you yet.
I blush when I think of your colored eyes, curly hair, or black Sketchers.
And you’re so tall
I wonder how much it’ll hurt to bend down when you kiss me.
I wouldn’t know what that feels like (yet), because I haven’t gotten the courage to talk to you.

I can’t help but wonder
If God is shaking His head because I’m slowly swirling into delusion.
Or if he’s cheering me on because His work with us is almost done.
It’d only make sense that we meet in His house.
Could we lock eyes as you move the basket down my pew?
And do you admire me from afar too?

i wake up tired
five more minutes

300 seconds isn't enough to prepare me for the exhaustion ahead of me
so i give myself five more minutes

finally with all of my will
i push myself to embark on a day that beats me until i can't differentiate a plum from my left eye

i drag through the floor of my room
one day doesn't define a week
yet it's always one ****** day after the next
and everyone is dying
time is giving up almost as fast as mother earth is

i make a smoothie that i convinced myself to like
because it tastes like compliments in a bikini in the summer
and a flat stomach
and a big *** that will get the attention of old men with poor taste

in the car, i crawl towards the sleep that my physics homework didn't let me get
she's so needy sometimes
****
i didn't finish reading my history homework
my brain doesn't grasp at the senseless words on the page
I'm bound to experience this history first-hand considering the lessons that world leaders fail to learn anyway

school
i like school
liked school
i was taught to color in the lines
as if life is ever in the lines
i like school

but i don't like it as much when I'm crying because i feel like a failure
or when my heart beats so fast that I'm scared it's going to push outside of my chest and run to a body that won't put it through so much stress
i don't like it as much when i have 3 tests and 2 projects in a week
but i like it when i see my friends for 30 minutes periodically
maybe i like school

i practice for 2 hours after school
that's my favorite time
i forget school
i forget problems
i just focus on not getting hit in the face
i like practice

but then i go home
and homework cascades my bedroom
she's trying to drown me you know
so i don't sleep
and then i wake up tired
five more minutes

I'd never thought that I'd live freely with your absence.
Yet you leaving was the piece of the puzzle that was missing.
I'd been staring at a screen
my mind was mangled by the continuous circle that flowed before it was ****** into the abyss of a black hole.
And I'd been tricked into thinking that with you I was living.
But now without you, I'm breathing.

If you asked me a year ago who I depended on most I'd say your name.
I didn't have to register the question because as soon as "dependent" left your lips I knew the answer.
My name wouldn't have been considered.

With you,
Fear constantly crept on my body and tickled my spine as it breathed down my neck because making you upset was the ultimate sin in my book.
All I'd known was loving the image of you from the first day we met.
All the ****** up things you said to me after were erased because you reminded me what it was like to be called beautiful by someone other than my mother.  

The ache you caused me didn't hurt as much as I'd been expecting it to.
I haven't missed you in weeks and only think of you in my prayers.
I pray that you've changed so the new girl doesn't have to learn as many lessons as I did from my experience with you.

I'm no longer afraid of your ******* facade.
I can identify an ignorant coward from 342 miles away.

Yet some tears were worth shedding when the droplets were swept away by a gracious hand.
My fingertips caressed my cheek.
And I remembered what it was like to be called beautiful and strong by someone other than my mother.

When did you turn into a soggy apple?
You'd been sweet and plump and round and shiny.
And apple juice would drip down my chin.
Then you wrinkled and tickled my tongue when I'd take a bite.
And you were sour and brown and mushy.
Soggy apple.

I can't even say I know what to write anymore.
Life has been depleted from my fingertips.
It's 8 in the morning.
Yes, we see you teaching us, please give us a break.