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Sylus Fox Jan 2018
My grandmother always told me that
I had to watch the words leave me mouth because
I am a pretty girl and we do not say **** words.
I’ve always had to take caution with my voice.

When I was walking down the hallway in ninth grade
A boy called out “Hey yo, nice ***!”
And when I whipped around,
I resisted the urge to call him a ****
Because I wanted to be a pretty girl,
I have always wanted to be gorgeous and
I can’t say **** words if I’m going to be.

When I was waiting in the vice principals office,
After my “best friend” stuffed a letter into my locker
She called me a ****, a word I’d yet to hear,
And made me feel like I didn’t deserve to breath
Because I was just a *****, right?
The ironic part is she’s still the prettiest
Girl I’ve ever seen, who used the ugliest words.

When a boy who must have been 12 years old
Called out to me  “Hey, yo, girl, come here”
As I walked across the parking lot,
Garbage bag in hand and I had to tell myself
That the appropriate response wasn’t to
Call him a ****** but to ignore it and walk faster

When love came towards my head
Just barely slow enough for me to move
And the words “What the ****” caught in my throat
Because I still needed to seem pretty
Even when my body was shaking,
I couldn’t say **** words, or I’d be **** too,
So I just stood there and waited for
The shaking to stop in my bones.

I have always wanted to be a pretty girl,
And pretty girls don’t say **** words,
Sylus Fox Nov 2017
The silence is too much
I hear myself think...think...think
About nothing important
But I scour my brain for it
Fight at the little thoughts
Like how much water makes
Your cells over-hydrate and explode?
What if I replaced coffee creamer
With Windex tomorrow morning,
How much time would the ambulance take?
Would I be okay?
Because I don’t really want to die
But yes I do, for just a second
Bring me back to life
Defibrillators against my chest
Don’t shock me as much as
The silence, because it rings
It’s not even silent
So how can it be so invasive
I think about the consequence of
Lighting a candle and leaving
It there by my bedside all night
How quickly would I
Knock it down in my sleep
I’m so afraid of burning to death
And drowning,
Though I guess one solves the other
I mean if you push a burning person into a lake,
Say a witch tied to a stake,
Are you saving them,
Or does that make you a killer,
See she couldn’t swim up,
But at least she isn’t burning,
And am I the witch or the fire in this scenario?
Probably both, though I’m also
A lake because who else
Can put me down better than myself.
And I pushed my own **** self in
Because “I don’t need a hero”
Every feminist bone in my body screams
While I’m tied to the railroad tracks
How did I get here? Wasn’t I just drowning?
I guess I took a crosstown bus.
But I was the only passenger
Because it was completely silent.
Sylus Fox Nov 2017
I meant to write you a poem,
It was going to taste like
Lemonade when it rolled off your tongue
Bubbly when it kissed your lips,
Just as I wish I could
Make myself do again.
It was supposed to smell like
Lemons and honey when
It was breathed out
The words were going
To flow like my hair
When you run your fingers
Through the tangles.
It was going to sound like
The thoughts I never have the time,
nor breath, to get out.
It needed it to be everything I wish
I could say to you once again
“I love you”s and
“Please hold me”s
That get lost in the translation from
My brain to my lips,
so instead I press them
Against yours, but not today,
Today was different, yes,
not at all the same.
I was going to write you a poem,
Instead here is line
After line of thought
That taste more
Like black licorice
It feels like the words
I scream at you
When I think it’s been going
Way too smoothly lately
For us to truly love each other,
We cannot be in love,
If I don't want to hate you
All the same time.
No this poem is not sweet,
It feels like the grit
Of brick pieces in
Your bloodied knuckles,
Because we don't know
How to be nice too each other
It's always more fun
When you don't like me,
You scream at me, I know
Because it looks like
Every other relationship
I've seen in my life.
I'm sorry, I can't write you
A cute poem where I
Compare your eyes to flowers
Or roll lemonade kisses off my lips.
I don't know that kind of love.
Sylus Fox Sep 2017
I painted the cracks in the sky with starlight
As the sun began to set, afraid of the dark.
Waited for the shimmer of hope to appear.
The moon hung there, sharp and bright
It called my name from it's place so high,
"I am not the stars, we shine so differently,
come with me and I will light your world
not just the path that lies beneath your feet."

So I spent all my time chasing moonlight,
letting it tire me out in hopes of just
getting to see one more sunrise in my life.
And I can't say I was lied to, not at all,
for the moon did light my whole world,
but with everything so bright it was hard
to see exactly where I was supposed to go,
I do much better with my starlit paths.
Sylus Fox Aug 2017
As a child my lips kissed
Every honeysuckle my arms could reach.
I believed,honestly and truly,
That if I ****** every sweet drop out
I’d find happiness hidden there.
Every bush was bare by the time I left,
I was still searching as I became a teenager,

I search now, not in plants,
In people. I believe I can find my happiness,
By pressing my lips against others,
Filling myself with their energy and filling my mouth
With sweetness are not so different.
I haven’t seen a honeysuckle bush in years,
But every now and again,
The familiar taste is on my tongue.
Sylus Fox Jul 2017
The world seems so bleak
Once you rise off your knees,
Your sides are bruised
You apologize, for flinching
Apologize for existing,
When it's two in the morning
You haven't slept in days
Thoughts are racing in your brain,
Your head aches, pounds with
Your heartbeat , it's sped up
Adrenaline barely wearing off.
Grip onto whatever pieces
of reality you can find,
Secretly wishing you slip away
Just this one time,
To avoid this pain in your ribs
Make it the last time
You have to hope they didn't break,
The last night you lay awake,
knowing life would be a bore,
without the odd validation
Of laying on your bed,
Ice pack held close to your body.

Maybe you're a little too ****** up,
What does that matter,
No one would notice anyways,
They all think you're fine,
That's what you tell them at least;
Everything is fine, don't worry,
Cry yourself to sleep humming
Old lullabies from years ago,
Hum yourself to sleep,
Or maybe, just daydream
About how life used to be.
Sylus Fox Jul 2017
We sat on your doorstep all night
Singing songs from our childhood,
Laughing at the references we missed.
You never cared I was off key,
I loved how you couldn't keep rhythm.
I believe if we stayed there forever
We might just be perfectly okay.

Then you realized how much my
Voice strained to get the notes,
I began to get distracted by
Just how off your tapping was.
Love became frustration,
Melodies becomes arguments.
It didn't take much to long
To silence us completely.

Now you've come to me,
No one else can sing our songs.  
I came back to you,
No one else taps the beat of my heart.
We're trying so hard to fix
What has been destroyed.

So we sit on your doorstep,
Singing new songs,
Only hoping that can fix it.
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