You've been holding on for more than two years
and I can't fight with that kind of memory
All the time you've had to romanticize a lost
and hit replay on the moments
I have my own nostalgia and what if questions too
But I tucked them away when we became
so I wouldn't be afflicting on you this torment

So I don't need to replace her
And I'm not naive enough to think I can
But I can only be a part of an us
That I don't have to compete for
Because I'm me and you say you've made your choice
But the most unkind thing you can do
Is compare me to a memory.

What a shame it is
that we spend most
of our time these days
committed to standing
on unloving
ground.

Instead of loving
our neighbor as
ourselves,

we seek unfettered
validation,
no matter our
own candid transgressions.

Our minds are full of stolen
ideas,
like eggs from the nests of eagles.

We spend our nights measuring wolves.


*

-JBClaywell

© P&ZPublications

I'm cutting my hair.
My mom thinks it's cute,
But I don't really care.
You touched it so it now means nothing but split ends and bleach in my skull.

I'm cutting my hair;
You're not welcome here.
I hope you hate how it looks and I hope my dad hates it, too;
New season new me is the cliché I chose.

I'm cutting my hair:
I like it more than I ever liked you.
You are dead ends and fine words.
I hope my dust fills your lungs and you long for me;
But I don't care,
I'm cutting my hair.

I'm cutting my hair because it's gross,
More gross than you and your venom kiss.
I'm cutting my hair because it's cute;
I'm cutting my hair because I despise you.

I’m at the sink holding scissors and razors;
I wish they were as sharp as your eye for imperfection.
I look in the mirror,
But I don’t see myself;
I see someone stronger and wiser and better than you.

Can you recognize such a pretty little thing?
Makeup smeared across my lips,
Chunks of blonde missing?
Would you even care if these scissors slip,
Scaring my face and obstructing your view?

Did I ever mean anything to you?

But why do I care?...
I already cut my hair.

i am a chess piece faking my way through a checkers board
running on an empty tank- go go go
fast!
Quick! here's a myth-
the asthmatic boy meets a girl burning up!
Both survive!
how do you say no thanks? no thanks!
your words are harsh red lines and they stab me and make me bleed.
stop asking me the same question.
i heard you the first time.
i did not want to answer.
the world is painstakingly dizzying and hopelessly loud.
Leave Me Alone