AP Smith

Jul 2017

Penelope Winter

Have You Eaten? (a collection of haikus)

"... had an early lunch."
"... already ate... not hungry."
My daily white lies.

One hundred pounds. Most
Teenage girls' dream size, but the
Weight of my nightmares.

"... eating disorder..."
The last words I hear before
My head hits the ground.

I don't even feel
it anymore. My body
Got used to starving.

A penny for each
Meal I've thrown out could buy me
Another water.

Work out until your
Size is small as your daily
Calorie intake.

"You're far too skinny"
They don't see the fat girl that
Lives in my mirror.

- p. winter

#poem #poetry #food #sadness

AP Smith Jan 2017

Years Facing the Universe

You had your back to me, the night.
You speak about things you don’t know and things you’ve never seen because you know nothing of my perspective
you say the only thing you love is the moon and stars, but
you have never seen what I see,
I face you.
I listen to your preprocessing voice speak of the only thing you’ve ever known
I have seen the stars and the moon yes, but I've also seen the sun and the ever changing sky
and you.

AP Smith Jan 2017

Here For a Friend

You whispered to me, we tell each other everything.
it’s a lie.
you don’t understand.
It’s so very cruel.
I don’t need to tell you everything.
Not that I don’t trust you, it’s just
I don’t need you as much as you need me.
You said to me, I don’t know what I would do without you.
that was a lie.
you don’t understand.
It’s so very cruel.
I don’t think you know that I would be fine without you.
Not that you need to know, it’s just
I don’t need you as much as you need me.
You yelled at me, there isn’t anyone else for you.
I lie.
you don’t understand.
It’s so very cruel.
I don’t want you to know there will always be another for me
Not that I don’t love you, it’s just
I don’t need you as much as you need me.

AP Smith Jan 2017

Down to Earth

people always say to reach for the heavens,
but what if I want to grasp the earth.

AP Smith Jan 2017

and I thought I was alone

You know what I mean when I say I am sick.
Sick of being controlled through something that really isn’t me.
Pathetic puppet held up by string of what seem like on some day, iron.
Master who has roots as deep as a great oak tree.
Set me free, I scream to sea of eyes cast downward behind cracked glass.

are they just as lost as me?
could they even hear me?

You know this isn’t me, I didn’t mean to scream.
The mass of people should know what I need.
I watch with a slow heart, numb mind and I forgot why I was there in the first place.
Slowly, pairs of stars begin to twinkle at me from behind the same cracked glass.
They all scream the exact same thing as me.

— The End —