There was Rebecca,
And there was Jon.
Rebecca lived in a peaceful neighborhood,
Where the wind blows through the trees and the sidewalks were brittle.
Jon lived across from her,
They never spoke, never glanced, never shared a laugh.

Rebecca was sporty, very loving, and loud,
Jon was poetic, mellow, and very quiet.

One hot summer evening, Rebecca was sitting on her front porch picking pedals,
Jon was leaning against his window, drawing tallies on his wall.

There was a moment of silence,
Everything stood still.
Jon turned his head towards the window to the sight of beauty,
Rebecca, sitting on her porch picking pedals.

Her burnt-sienna hair glistening in the sunlight,
Jon's eyes were locked in place, he was drowned in her bloom.
Rebecca looked up, locking eyes with Jon.

At the same time,
They stood up and glanced at each other.
Jon racing down the door while Rebecca jumping up from her porch,
Her pedals fluttered off her dress.

Across from each other,
They both walked up till their noses touched.
Rebecca's hands locked in Jon's,
Jon's eyes were lost in Rebecca's.

As the days went by and the weather shift,
Rebecca and Jon were inseparable.  
Jon would pick petals with Rebecca on the porch,
Rebecca would sit by the window writing poems with Jon.

The more time they spent,
The more tallies appeared on Jon's wall.

When the skies became grey and the wind was ice cold,
Jon couldn't pick pedals with Rebecca on her porch.
There was days when Rebecca couldn't write with Jon at his window.

Jon would stay in his room,
Twenty more tallies covered his wall.
Rebecca was sick at heart,
Lingering in her house.

That didn't stop the love between Jon and Rebecca,
A month flew by.
The snow started to thaw off the grass,
Everything became greener again.

Rebecca was ready to write at the window with Jon,
She wanted to pick pedals with him every second.
Rebecca wandered onto her porch,
She didn't see sight of Jon at his window.

Her thoughts start to worry her,
She leaped from her porch and scurried across the street.
She ran through muddy puddles and skimmed on the dewy grass,

Rebecca knocked on Jon's door,
No reply.
Rebecca's days were lost and sorrow,
She felt no life in her.

When summer came back around,
Rebecca was back to picking pedals by herself.
She looked up to see a surprised guess at her porch,
Jon's mother.

Rebecca, with all love and respect,
Jon is now walking on the other side.
He's where the sun shines brighter,
It's been months since he's been ill.
Jon's been counting the days he's lived,
It was only 122 days, counting the tallies.
The more you came over,
The more it was hard to hide.
He was pale, undernourished,
Too sick to come out.
The thought of telling you was too grievous,
He didn't want the love to end.

The mother walked away,
Giving Rebecca her moment to grasp.
Even though her love for Jon was bare,
122 days was all she needed to know she had someone special.

She promised herself to always pick pedals on her porch every summer,
Just for Jon.

You used to want to hold me in your arms,
Now the games give you solace. 
You’d tell me your every thought,
Now we sit in stillness.
I want to be there.
Your episodes are new seasons to me.
I share my body in ache for your showcase and closeness. 
Once you’re done with me you’re back on your solitude. 
I used to be your light,
But I’ve dimmed the ‘shine’ with my selfishness.
My job is to be there,
But my presence feels so obsolete,
Disconnected.
I must be patient with you. 
Kiss me through the phone,
I want to replenish your heart.
Nurture you from the ground up,
Water you with my affirmations.

I hope my eyes still give you a kaleidoscopic dream.

Wish things were the way they used to be. 
Now I barely see you and you’re right in my face. 
It’s like I’m frustrated 
But can’t be. 
I need to be there.
Waking up every morning 
Hoping for a full moon.

I feel like I’m losing you, 
Slipping through my fingers. 
Less than, 
Out of control.
Like there’s no sense of time.

September 30th, 2016,
Saturday.
It was my birthday.
I was officially becoming grown in a sense.
And what other way to spend it than with you.
You took me out that day.
For tacos and a sweet dessert after.
My menstrual had fallen on that day so you tried to make it better.
It was that day, we were gifted with our son,
Theodore the Big Teddy.
Theo for short.
You know, I still have that big bear.
It takes me back to the day you bought it for me,
knowing I wished upon a star so many times for one.
Among-st all my birthdays,
that one sticks up like a flower in a grassy field.
It was my first of ever,
spending it with the love of my life.  
I thank you for making my 19th birthday a day to remember.

25 years around the sun.


25 years learning

That I am someone.

In these 25 years

My energy touched those around me.
Warmed hearts,
drew smiles.

Took 25 years to realize

I’ve done a lot
I’m an artist
Started from the ground up,
Created with so many
Turned a passion into a career.

Done things 15yr old me would never believe.

Manifested all that is here.

I’ve seen,
Experienced,
Dealt.

still navigating this avant-garde terrene
Looking to do more.

25 years I…

Visualized my higher self,
Now, I’m showing up as her.

My back against the glass,
I'm sitting waiting for you.
I'm cold but I can take the breeze.
I wait patiently,
my hands in my pockets.

There's butterflies in my stomach,
my hair is flying in my face.
I check and wait for the bus to come,
I see one, but it isn't yours.

While I'm waiting patiently,
I hear a knock against the glass behind me.
I turn around for a complete surprise,
there's you.
Your hand motions tell me to come,
I follow.

As we hop on the same bus you were on,
we catch a seat.
Me staring out the window,
your arm around my shoulder.

You kiss me on the cheek,
and my whole face becomes red and warm.
I feel secure,
you right next to me.

We hop off the bus to get another one,
we wait.
The bone-chilling weather aggravates me,
but you keep me warm.

Our first kiss was memorable,
people tend to stare.
You grab my ***,
I grab yours.

You hand me a stick of mint gum,
I shove it in my pocket for safe keeping.
Our bus finally arrives,
it's gonna be a long trip.  

The bus is crowded,
but we can't stand long.
You hitch up a seat for us,
but there's only one.

I have to sit on your lap,
you don't seem to mind.
You're in pain though,
not my fault there's no seats.

A guy finally gets up,
there's a free seat for me now.
The bus trip is dreadful,
but it's worth every dime.

We get off the bus,
we have to walk still.
Hand in hand as we go, the cold can't stop us now.

Once we're in, we're finally warm.
The mall is huge,
we walk a little, shop a little.

Those endless times of our lips touching,
we must be careful so people don't interrupt.
We grab a bite and drink,
we cuddle.

Our legs walk through every entrance,
not my fault I love to shop.
More lips are touching,
hugs too.

The sun gets weary, and dims down a bit.
We must get home soon,
one more entrance, it wont be long.

It's time to head out,
the sky paints a sunset view.
We catch that bus,
we're warm again.

Our day was exquisite,
too bad we only lasted a week.

March,
my life was in shambles. My feelings were distraught, and my mind was in another dimension.
April,
same as before. Grief, pain, misery, anger.
May,
denial. I denied this ever happening to me. How could it happen to me? No way. I’m Latia Jackson.
June,
summer time. I tried to distract myself with people and events around me, but even that didn’t work. Everything and everyone reminded me of him.
July,
I told myself everything was going to be okay. My tears were not consistent thankfully, but I still felt sharpness. I even ran into you on my worst day and I told myself I wouldn’t run.
August,
to get away from it all, I flew away for a bit. I surrounded myself with people who loved me, and I love them.
September,
my birthday month. You’re back in my life and still till this day I don’t know if it was a mistake or a blessing that it happened. But you left, for good.
October,
I was over it. I knew now that since you were gone for good it was time for new beginnings. So, I chopped my hair and got a tattoo.
November and December
they were nothing but smiles and happy moments. Emotional detox cleansings and new faces.
January,
new year new me they say. That was the truth. I vowed to leave all this behind and focus on the real picture, me. No more tears, no more worries, no more what ifs. It took me 9 months to get to where I am, and I was not going to let anything ruin it.

I'm not afraid to ****.
I'm just afraid.

Next stop, outer space.
I take pictures with you in bed,
All white and silky. All cold and bright.
There's a gravitational pull in this club.
I didn't think you'd leave me,
But I knew.
I'm not feeling anything, today was pretty numb.
Beer, depression, flower crowns in your wasp like hair.
I jiggy on down to that dub.
Makes me happy.
Strudels, makeup, that cute lil stain on your cotton polo.
You're ready? For this marriage?
So I can wrap my little arms around your ripped waist. You're mine.
I'll never eat.
Cookies, gummy bears & worms,
All of that is lovely, but not without you.
Tickle me with words.
Cherish me with gold that cannot be seen.
Fill me up, but don't let me down.
Throw my summer hands up in the warm sky.
Feel that shaky breeze in my hair as my neck bends back.
Is that BBQ I smell?
Ride that convertible with the hood down.
Blast it.
Crop tops and two boys in the back.
Why not take a trip to California?
I don't have much,
Brain is fried to the dark meat.

Dolphins, black tights, sombrero,
The red lipstick stain on your napkin.
Dancing on the table, high in the navy blue air, bass grinding.
Shiny white teeth, swirls in your eyes, lines everywhere.
You pull those suspenders close to you.
Drinking that moscato in your right hand.
Pinkie up.
Nothing but a boss in that chair,
Turtles touch your feet,
Nothing but in your boxers that Saturday evening.
I really don't care what you smell like.
You remind me of careless unicorns in a dark party.
Growing, laughing, crying, singing in the shower.
Music bleeding through your body.
Sadness, tears, curled up in the warmth of the cool blankets.
This is what flies in my head, I throw it on a paper and call it poetry.

I was alone that night.
Because of you,
I had to walk in bravery and fear alone.
Your anger liked to stick to you like a burr plant on blue jeans.
Whatever it is I said,
it boiled you.
I walked home that night alone in darkness and in confusion as to why you weren't there protecting me at that time of need.
I couldn't let anyone know what you did to me,
it would've left a bad taste in their mouth.
No call,
no checkup,
no worry,
nothing.
You didn't seem to care about my safety until I had already made it home.
Tired,
exhausted,
sad.
You only asked because you felt bad for not caring.
At that moment,
I should've left for good.
But I stayed.

In the dusky warm night,
I my fingertips fly off onto you.
You stare into my eyes.
I can feel your hand moving up my thighs.
Twinkle in my eyes,
My body wants and needs you.
Stain my lips with your kisses,
Tease me with your bites.
Leave me purple blue.
Chills upon my skin,
Arches my back.
My mind is starting to burn with forbidden thoughts.
Give me frost bites.
I'll tease you.

Call me when you need a hug
I’m there.
You send me through tears,
Beautifully painful.
I’m just a call away.
Through the wire
Passed the dial buttons
Into the speaker
Is my hug for you.
You need me as much as I do.
Let the sea waves soothe you.
Let the wind trickle down your body.
As I hug you through this digital world.

It was at that moment.
I knew.
I was in confusion.
Never would I think I would be sitting in the bedroom with a fan propped up against my face watching my ex playing PAC Man on the T.V...
Yes,
the room we shared every living breathing moment together.
Why was I there you might ask?
Well because I decided to be there.
Nothing of what you think,
just simply being there.
I prayed and vowed I'd never see him ever again,
I prayed and vowed we'd never cross roads.
But for some reason,
God had other plans.
Why? That I do not know.
I sometimes felt God brought him back in so that I can receive the proper closure I needed and then afterwards leave.
I also believed God knew we had a bond that wasn't going to be found in another person no matter how hard we tried.
“There's only one of one person.”
Doesn't mean we need to be together.
We won’t be together.
Ever.
Can it just mean we can't avoid each other?
Or can we?
We can.
And we did.
I could've said no to meeting up at that McDonald's,
I could've said no to hanging out day by day,
I could've said no to being friends,
I could’ve said no to the ***.
But I didn't.
My love for him made all the decisions.
Latia wasn’t.
In the beginning of it all,
I always said I'd rather us be friends than never seeing each other again because I couldn't bear him knowing all about me and all the funny inside joke memories just gone.
But he moved to Texas and we left on a sour note.
Maybe it was meant that way.
So, I keep this ***** little secret of mine only between my close friend and I because she's the only one that understood this whole situation from the beginning and wouldn't be mad at the fact I still associated my life with him.
Yea, it's my life and no one controls what I do or say or who I hang with,
but I just know...
deep down,
controversy would’ve spurred and everyone would look down on me as if I was a hypocrite or a girl who cried wolf.
Also,
if anything went haywire,
I didn’t want the whole world to know and I hear the backlash of it all.
So no-one but her knows about this.
Being in that room,
being in his presence,
I had to take things as a grain of salt.
Simply because none of it was serious or as deep as I would like it, it was just a casual “friendly bond”.
So I thought.
They always said,
"It's a myth being friends with an ex."
They were right.
It's hard being friends with someone you're in love with,
but it's easy being friends with someone you've only dated for a week or month.
So I sat there,
watching him play PAC man, wondering why the hell I was there and what the purpose in all that was.

He dropped a bottle, we watched the lactic leave and cover the floor.
"He's a baby boy, he doesn't know better."
He tipped the vase that was onced said not to be touched,
Drew on walls with all sorts of colors.
"He's a baby boy, he doesn't know better."
Ran with bread in his hands that wasn't his,
Walked on property that said NO.
"He's a baby boy, he doesn't know better."
Absent from school, days and days,
Sobbed and pout in stores when mother said,
I'm not buying that.
"He's a baby boy, he doesn't know better."
Grades were lowering,
Smiles were deterring.
"He's a baby boy, he doesn't know better."
Tussled in the streets with the no-good-doers,
Trying to protect the change in his pockets.
"He's a baby boy, he doesn't know better."
He came in the house of the mist of nights,
Bashed and bitter,
Partied till sunrise.
"He's a baby boy, he doesn't know better."
He met a lover,
Left her for another and another.
"He's a baby boy, he doesn't know better."
He howled and beaten people,
Threatened their lives if they spoke of it.
"He's a baby boy, he doesn't know better."
Jumped in mysterious cars and tarnished the neighborhoods,
Took innocent lives,
Was sentenced life.
"He's not a baby boy, he knows better."

Barack Obama, first US President of African origin.
Langston Hughes, earliest innovators of then-new literary jazz
                                     poetry.
Angela Davis, African American political activist, and author
Coretta Scott King, author, activist, and civil rights leader
Katherine Johnson, African-American mathematician

Anita Baker, African American singer-songwriter
Muhammed Ali, African American professional boxer and activist
Erykah Badu, African American singer-songwriter activist
Rosa Parks, the mother of the freedom movement and civil rights
Ida B Wells, African-American journalist and feminist
Colin Powell, statesman and retired four-star general in US Army
Al Sharpton, civil rights activist and Baptist minister
N*elson Mandela, South African anti-apartheid revolutionary
                                   political leader

What I always dreamt in my head,
white folks running and playing in the white snow.
Drinking ginger beer and talking about how lovely the weather is.
Baking pies every Sunday morning.
But for me, I have no advantage of that.
What is snow? I've never seen it. How does ginger beer taste, is it sweet n' bitter?
How's their weather? Our weather is musk and steamed.
What kind of pie, blueberry or cherry?
I get the rust bucket of it all.
We have no snow, no ginger beer, bland weather, and no pie.
Instead, I get bruises from the colonials.
From head ***** hair to ached feet, I'm bruised.
I would love to feel snow, sip on some ginger beer, feel different weathers, and eat pie every morning.
That'll be a gift.
Too bad they run us. We have no say.
We get dry sand, ***** water, hot weather, and no food every morning.
I'd rather deal with that then be bruised black and blue.

Cocoa coffee.
Brunet,
Dusky.
 
My skin devours the sun.
I glow.
 
My skin was once a barricade,
I couldn't do much with it.
 
My skin was lynched, blistered, hosed.
 
Annihilated.
 
My skin disassociated who I wanted to be friends with,
Taboo places I wanted to fall in with.
 
Banished where to sit,
walk,
ride,
play.
Illegalized my freedom of speech.
 
My skin grew and grew and grew.
 
Broaden all over,
Creating role models that stand before me now.
 
Underneath all tarnished wounds,
I glow.
 
Chocolate chestnut.
Auburn,
Melanin.
 
My skin is sweet like Apple pie,
Ripe and enriched with knowledge.
 
My skin is coated with a honey glazed shield of righteous pride.
Embedded with the most exquisite fine wisdom.
 
I’m fine wine.
 
 
They say black is deliberately harmful
Boding ill
Soiled-stained with dirt
Grotesque
Illegal.
 
But what they don't know is that
Black goes with everything.

Don't be mad, just feel.
Feel how I felt those days ago.
Don't care, learn.
Learn what you did so I don't have to say it.
Don't worry, realize.
Realize your wrong doings you didn't know before.
Don't say "okay," prove it.
Be a mature man and take full responsibility of your actions.
Oh wait, you're still a immature child.
You shouldn't be riding the big boy bikes if you can't handle it.

Name falls from the ancient Greeks.
The Sound of Thunder,
Is what they preach.
I like to think of you as a classical human being.
Your mother and father welcomed you here on earth February the 4th 1998,
A water bearer,
Ruler of Uranus and Saturn.
You’re unique,
Built in Texas and fell right in the Chi.

You know what people like about you?
The communication you bring.
You communicate with your eyes,
Ears,
And mouth.
You know what else?
Your humor.
All the unsynchronized clocks in a watchmaker’s shop stops.
Your smile.
It relinquishes the fear in people.
Makes us feel safe.

You idolize the melodies of Mr. Kendrick and Cole,
You’re picky in your own nature.
Can’t have chocolate Oreos without milk,
Doesn’t dare touch greens.
You’re the element of air,
A handsome Phrygian youth.
Nobody is as witty as you,
Clever and rebellious.
Like spicy chili Doritos your mind is as far as the eyes can see.
You’re beyond on what you know,
Ahead of the game.
Filled with paradoxes.
You’re interested in the opposite ends of the spectrum.

If you were to leave town the next morning
Save me your lucky Krispy Kream sweater.
It smells like…you.
I want to hold your hand as you voyage all over the world.
You’ve been to Egypt before,
Go again… with me this time.

To my panda,
You will go out of your way to help another.
Live with no strings attached.
Like Po,
Very unconventional and always full of excitement.


You truly do have you and your beautiful soul.

He liked her with her long hair,
so she cut it short.

She left.
Left with silk robes and leather luggages.
I was left.
Left with soiled pennies and a running box fan propped on the window seal.
I see the rooms, side by side.
Coral blue and pastel pink.
I dread to walk by.
Therefore I drown in bitter pungent misery.
Nothing but day old tuna and concentrated orange juice in the fridge.
She complained.
I drowned.
I anguish over how I misused my love.
Its too late.
Can't take back the knuckle shaped bruises,
The dried tears.
I admit,
We were young in that pickup truck of 1972.
Sorry for dragging you in my bitter pungent misery.
Watching all of it leave the door has me drown.
Its my birthday.
I sit alone gorging and filling in cake to escape the taste of,
Beer.

I want to stay, but god has plans for me, so I shall go.
This hurts more than anything, but I'm growing and adapting.
The pain, tears, stress, anger, is all worth it.
You're not gone, you're busy for 2 years.
You won't be forgotten.
You were the glue that held the broken pieces, you can't be invisible.
Things will change and rearrange, but will never change what's in the heart.
There's a bond, hold on to it.
It isn't fun, life wasn't made to be fun.
It's how you live it, that makes it fun.
Don't give up.
Please.
Once you're done, you can always come back.

Are we pages to a book someone has created?
Is this their fantasy they've pieced together with mind to mind?
We're characters obeyed to do as the author demands.
Do we think?
Or do we act?
Who really controls us?
Do the words we speak come from our minds,
or from another's?
Do you know if you're fiction or not?
I don't.
Is earth really earth?
Or is it a sketch in a notepad?
The questions we ask, they boggle our minds.
Is there really a god they speak of?
A hell?
Is this all make believe and we're playing our parts?
We'll never know.
Can we walk out of this chapter and read between the lines?
Or are we stick figures?
You answer.

As I sleep with my eyes closed in tight,
I start to wonder that beaming light.
My eyes creak open like a rusty door,
All I see is darkness surrounding me more.
I leap out of bed like a worried dreamer,
Following the light that sinks in deeper.
As I open the door with a slight pull,
The lights seem brighter and fill in full.
Soft as I go down the stairs,
I tilt my head in a curious stare.
Wondering who I’m seeing down below,
A man who seems jolly and very fellow.
Face so pink hair so white,
He wears all red in such delight.
A bag full of goodies 2 or 3,
I wonder if one of them is for me.
My heart starts to flutter and my mouth starts to say,
“Is this all real or just one of those crazy days”?
I stare and watch him do his best,
As he releases the gifts and pats his chest.
The tree becomes a beauty of wonderful surprise,
As I watch the magic with my own eyes.
No one knows the feel of joy,
Until they see the wonder and enjoy.
I call this Christmas.

Funny how my friend and I are best friends,
How you and your friend are best friends.
Your friend dates my friend,
You date me.
You and your best friend are in the same advisory,
My friend and I are too.
Your best friend breaks up with my best friend.
We do too.
Isn't a coincidence?
How all four of us date,
Then break up.
Hilarious right?...

I sit in a cold lake.
"Why are you sitting in a cold lake?" They ask.
"That's the only way my heart will continue to beat."
I don't get sick. I never get sick.
I bathe in cold lakes.
"You might get sick! I tell you, you might get sick!"
I tell them I don't care.
I tell you the truth, I'm perfectly fine.
My teeth my clatter, and my skin might fade into a cool blue,
But my heart still beats.
"You're insane, you might die!" They tell me.
"No, no I won't. Of all the pain I've been, my heart can tolerate such cold and bitterness. This lake doesn't phase me."
They yell get out.
I stay in.
Reasons behind my meanness, reasons behind my smiles, reasons behind my trust issues,
I sit in a cold lake where my heart stays cold and I don't feel for anyone. Anymore.

I like you.
But I like you too.
We wonder, for awhile

You knew you crushed me.
The minute you came back from your family trip, everything took a ugly turn for the hurt.
I never would've imagined myself sitting on my bathroom floor crying my eyes out as my heart ached every mid-second.
My religious beliefs shouldn't have been a major issue,
But everything I believed in you tore against it.
It's never safe to let snakes hiss in your ear.
They tell you things that change your perspective on life.
Negative perspectives.
I didn't want to leave the bathroom but I knew I couldn't stay in there forever.
You apologized the next day for your actions,
but ever since then,  
I knew it wasn't safe grounds anymore.

The problem
with this poem
is that
it needs
light
to be read.

light:
daylight
candle-light
electric light.
sun light.

One can dance
in the dark
one can sing
in the dark
one makes
love
in the dark
but this poem
cannot be read
in darkness
that is perhaps
its greatest
weakness.

People draw with silver.
It comes out red.
Magic?
People walk with gravity.
They end up weightless.
Magic?
People eat a day
The food disappears the same day.
Magic?
People have good balance.
Yet end up on the ground.
Magic?
People aren't magicians.
They use what's around them to get out of life.

Death is not equal nor is it fair.
Its deep depression hugs your skin so tight till the warmth of your blood blisters within inside.
The hands of tar holds your wrist,
melting you to the gritty bones.
You can't help but to fall into a transparent universe.
Your eyes are glossy all over, and your breath is cold to the temp.
You have dark circles beneath your eyes.
Hate to say it,
but you're dead.
Just relax and pretend you're another dimension,
playing jump-rope around the corner.  
Your whole body is hallow,
the ground is forever infinite.
Where is your mind right now?
I don't know.
Death doesn't do much.
We give death work, it pays us with great fortune.
Just let go.
Let yourself fall into the arms of death.
Everything you see now is bleak, draft,
nothing.
Be the sweet rooted demotic demon person you are.
Death doesn't mind.
You look to see if the clock has struck twelve,
but it hasn't.
All because of death.
Death doesn't make its move until you drop the silver spoon.
It watches you from up above.
Watch you bleed from the neck,
or weakened at the heart.
You can pursue any way to go.
Death will do.
Stop running the 100 mile race just to chase away the horrors of death.
It will come to you when you least expect it.

Oceans of waters dancing naked to the horizon beyond the sight none along with around, only the eternal sun rays dimly reflecting towards the heavenly sky, on this mysterious mystic level, death floats, only conscious of its being, super sufficient needless nimble numb, he takes a voyage unknown infinite from a definite point, and takes pleasure inward that there is no end, it is like missing from the materials and becoming a being of anti-dialectic, an absolute free entity.

The evening cast a warm glow peeking through the curtains.
Dionne Warwick’s “Make It Easy On Yourself”
Hissed and popped as the needle danced across the record.
Its sorrowful tune echoed the room, looping
The words easy on yourself
As life stood still
And time grew short.
With a trashbin stuffed with crumpled up letters,
A phone shoved in the side pouch
Of a bookbag buzzed. It eventually
Stopped,
And the music grew louder
And louder.

There she laid---
Her arms and legs sprawled out
While her body slowly sunk, being one with the bed
Finally.

Her lips quivered,
Unraveling an ocean of warm tears. The room
Seemed blurred out, but her eyes
Still captured posters, the ceiling fan,
The fairy lights.
Her cotton candy hair rustled against her cheeks---
Sticking to her as the tears continued to fall.
Then, the phone
Buzzes again, this time longer
As it competed with the song.

Cut up pictures of
Missing,
Burnt out, faded faces
Decorated the floor, and the girl
Softly wept, sniffled, and let out a sigh.
She couldn’t stop weeping.
As life stood still,
And time grew short,
She knew she had to make it easier on herself.

Boys are weird!
Us girls will never understand them.
They scuff their knees up and walk out the house with tousled hair,
Can they ever think before they do?
They swing, climb, run, and jump on everything!
Just stay still.
Boys will be boys,
With dirt on their faces and cuts on their fingers.
They stick gum in girl's hair,
Carry slimy frogs in their pockets.
Their appetite is atrocious,
Are they gentlemen deep down?
Boy's language is all washed up,
They'll call you hot instead of beautiful.
They're full of burps and hung up on videogames,
Wrestling in the house every second.
Do they have a nice side?
Dads will keep a good eye on them,
Making sure they're good for their daughters.
Boys never stay like this,
They grow up to eventually become a *man.

Explain why you destroyed me and now want to control me. Explain that.