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 Dec 2018 evanie
Janelle Tanguin
i.

I intentionally failed to wish you
a happy birthday this year,
though I know significant dates,
hours, moments, people,
by heart.
I still search for you in boys
I mistake for bandages,
the ones with eyes almost
the same shade of your hazels,
lips resounding your laughter,
resembling a wisp of your smile,
But they aren't you.

ii.

Sometimes I pretend you're dead,
because it's less painful
to stop reaching out into voids.

iii.

My mom still blames you
for everything that preceded that year.
Though you probably had no idea what happened
when we stopped talking altogether.
Can you believe it's almost been three years?

iv.

My dad wonders who was my 'one that got away'
Though, I'm pretty sure he knows
it's you.

v.

Remember how I mentioned Sylvia Plath?
How most everything she wrote
brimmed with melancholy?
How I loved every single word?
Especially that piece
where she talked about expectations
and disappointments.
You'll never know that
up to this day I still think
people are selfish enough to
always, eventually turn into the latter.
Even you.

vi.

It's sad I never got the chance
to tell you about Ted.
How she loved him so much,
she just had to dive headfirst
into the flames-- burning herself,
what was left of her--
after she found out
he never really loved her
the same way
she loved him
in the first place.

vii.

truth is,
some of us
never learn to accept
the love we think we deserve.


viii.

I don't know if you still read my poems
or if you still think about me,
about us, sometimes.
Every time you fall asleep past eleven,
a part of me hopes you do.
because I always remember you--
in birthday candles, red ribbons,
off-tune voice records, golden arches,
concrete sidewalks, pedestrian lanes,
the last flickers of city lights
softly fading out of the blue.
I remember you
in everything, in everywhere,
in everyone.
It's useless, no matter how much I try to forget.
No matter how much I just want to forget.
I want to forget.

But, how could I?

When forgetting means forsaking
the very memory of you.
 Jun 2017 evanie
Boaz Priestly
there are three words
on the tip of your tongue
waiting to be grouped into
whatever you want them to be
and they can mean anything
they can heal
they can maim
they can ****
because words scar just like knives

“i love you”
and god did you ever
his eyes that shone with kindness and light
her lips that were always so soft
the first time you kissed a boy
and you held her hand in the mall
not caring who saw you
you have so much love to give
and that makes the past tense
hurt even more

“i’m right here”
and you were
and so were they
when the nightmares got really bad
so bad that they bled over into the day
and seeing great black wings bursting out of
someone's back
sends you reaching out for a hand to hold
something to ground you
because it’s not real
and you’re not crazy

“i need you”
and you always have been selfish
not wanting to be in a world where they
aren’t a text message, a call, or a letter away
because they’ve always been there
even when you hardly were yourself
and you need them
you do
and you probably always will
and that is not a bad thing

“i’m so sorry”
and those three words
are said with tears in your eyes
snot dripping from your nose
and it does not matter why
you are saying sorry
be it because of self-infliction
or otherwise
because you’ve hurt them
but you just don’t want them to go

“please don’t go”
and these words are said
in so many contexts and settings
like reaching out from the bed
and grabbing onto them
because sleeping alone is too quiet
or you run after them
leaving food and drinks to cool
because what good is food
and sleep and drink
if you’ve gotta go it alone

“i love you”
and aren’t those the most
important words that you will ever say
to her and him and them
because they will linger
in the best and worst ways
through years and cities and states
they never go away
because baring your heart and soul
to another person
another being
like that is both the greatest sacrifice
and greatest thing you will ever do

“you’ll be okay”
and a parting gift for you
dear reader and viewer of this work
because even though those three
words do sound cliche
they are the most true things
that have ever been spoken
because you will heal
wounds will scar over
sleepless nights will stop adding up
and you will be so happy to be alive
you’ll be okay
i know it
 Jun 2017 evanie
Aditi
Don't.
 Jun 2017 evanie
Aditi
Don't tell a rose how to grow,
And The birds how to chirp.
Don't tell your daughter to be soft,
Don't tell your son how to hurt.

Don't tell the sky what color to bleed,
And a person, the right way to grieve.
Don't try to tame your daughter's tongue,
Don't tell your son the manly ways to love.

Don't tell the wind which way to blow
Or the clouds how hard to rain.  
Don't teach your daughter how to soak,
Don't show your son how to easily reject.

Don't tell the sun to adjust its light
Or the truth how to show itself.
Don't tell your daughter it's feminine to shy,
Don't teach your son how to reign with fists held high.


Don't tell a heart how to beat
Or the mind how not to soar.
Don't clip off your daughter's  wings,
To make them a foundation for your son to grow.

Don't tell a rose how to grow,
Lest it decides to turn its petal into thorns.
Don't tell the birds how to chirp
And have their voices turn into rebellious growls.
Finally, one of my many poems was chosen as a daily.
Just been a 5 years.

I still can't believe it.

Also, thank you for all your reviews and love. I still don't think I'm a poet, I just usually ramble. But I'm so glad you guys gave this poem such love.
Means a lot.

Again, thank you very very much.

— The End —