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 May 2016 Athena
hyun
I've got a lot in my head.
a lot of you, maybe.
i'm trying hard
not to fall too hard for you.
we've been this way before.
oh, i'm sure you know--
your eyes need validation.
this desolation that I get
from looking at you
looking at someone else
is terribly inconsistent.
you said, "i'd love for us to spend a night together."
oh, darling, if only you knew.

You're on your way home
and i've always wanted
to take you.
I know I'm not
your type of guy
but this is my type of disaster
so, i hope you kind of want to take me, too.
take me to hell, maybe
'cause that line sounds preposterous
and pretentious
at the exact same time--
but not really.
it all comes down to, "do you believe in it?"
and i believe in you,
and in love,
and in coincidence
and in the idea of chasing you
'cause that's all i can ever hope for.
you're all i can ever hope for.

I've got a lot in my head.
a lot of you, maybe.
honestly, i have fallen.
yes, too hard, for you.
and love found me too soon.
i hope it didn't yet
'cause right now
i'm half fixed, half broken
and always out of tune.
like the moon, you'll always find
your way back
and that scares me
'cause i'm not the one you'll go back to.
i'm not even the one
you took a chance with.
i'm not anyone.

I'm on my ****** way home.
and i begin to daydream
on how we'll spend that night together
if it ever comes in touch with reality.
and if it will ever make a difference,
i'll just put this out here
so you'll know:
i love you.
that's right, darling,
i'm starting to.
a piece i should not have written.
 Apr 2016 Athena
jack of spades
i spent the back half of freshman year as a ghost, drifting through these halls without ever touching anything, haunting my own bones with nothing more under my skin than an echo, watery lungs and glassy eyes that couldn’t see past my own transparency. floating. i don’t like to talk about it.

i spent the start of sophomore year as a zombie, revived but not quite alive again, less like glass and more like porcelain, trailing my hands along the murals and trying to feel again. i existed, but i was still searching for existence. in january i found pieces of myself in a meteor, and in amethyst geodes and lunar eclipses i found that i was less undead and more E.T.
either way i didn’t feel quite human, like i was off by two shades, so i doodled UFOs into the corners of all my notes and wrote poems about people who smiled like stars in the halls, whose laughs made me feel like i was finally home.

i’ve spent all of junior year driving. nothing feels okay in the same way that leaving does. highways sing lullabyes with road signs, other late-night cruisers sending Morse code messages to the helicopters overhead. i don’t have to think.
i’ve spent all of junior year side-stepping every single pestering question about what i’m doing with the next ten years of my life, signing away my soul to banks for student loans, all for a degree that statistically i won’t even need down the road for anything past sharpening my job resumes, like “hey, look, i’ve got all this debt in the pursuit of a higher education, please hire me.”

i’ve spent my junior year catching up on breathing.
i’ve spent my junior year catching up on sleeping.
i spent the first two years of high school half-dead and fully awake, chugging along like a train destined for nowhere, nothing.

i want to spend my senior year moving.
i want to spend my senior year running.
i want to spend my senior year finding life through expelling the ghosts in my bones and burning the skeletons that always left dust on my conscious whenever i reached past them to get t-shirts out of my closet.
i want to spend my senior year shouting.
i want to spend my senior year knowing that i am already everything i ever will be combined with everything i already was.
i want to spend my senior year forming galaxies with my fingertips.
i want to end my high school career knowing that there is a universe of possibilities inside of me.

i spent freshman year as a ghost, but ghosts are best used as metaphors for memories,
and something i’m best at is forgetting.
there are days where i still feel like a zombie, but who doesn’t feel like that at least every single monday morning?
 Feb 2016 Athena
Ellie Shelley
I wanna sit in the back seat of a car with you
My legs on your lap
My back against the window
Your lips lingering on my neck
Telling me stories by mouthing words on my skin
Fingers pressed so hard into my skin
I expect you to leave bruises for the rest of my life
Sweat lightly beaded on our skin
My hair sticking to my shoulders
Your vest tightly wound between my fingers
I want you to play Flatsound
And tell me about your childhood
I want you to press your secrets into my skin
Till you engrave your story into me
I want you to stare at my flaws
Till you don’t hate me for them
I want you to scream everything you regret
Put your hand on my thigh
And tell me how you feel about me
Wrap your fist around my hair
Put your hand on my neck
Tell me what makes you hurt
Tell me what makes your soul burn
 Nov 2015 Athena
Ellie Shelley
Don’t become infatuated
Don’t fall in love
Especially not with poets
Because they only ever exist in their words
They will write you love poems, and lengthy paragraphs
With words said in ways you have never heard before
You will fall in love, with love poems, the way they say their vowels, and the look in their eyes when they read to you  
They will lull you to sleep with sticky sweet words
And they will speak of the colour yellow, in a new light
A new meaning will come to its definition
And it will slowly become your favorite colour
You will wear yellow dresses, and put daisies in every room  
You will see the speckles of yellow in their brown eyes
But you will find them at three in the morning sitting in the bath tub, bathing in the words of metaphors
You will find them having an affair with Stanzas and Verses at the same time, sleeping with sonnets
You will see that poetry was always their mistress
At night they will no longer share blankets with you, but they will wrap themselves in ballads and couplets
You will only be able to express this new distance with eulogies
You will start seeing yellow everywhere
In the beds of your nails, and them hems of your skirts
Till you start seeing it so often that you will want to puke up every word they have ever said to you
You will realize that talk is cheap and Rhymes are easy
You will realize that poets only ever exist in their words
This is the final version
 Nov 2015 Athena
Ellie Shelley
Galaxies don’t really overlap all that often
But for us, they did
Even though the flying debris from their collision created a blackhole
The stars shone even brighter
And in that metaphor I’m referring to social groups
And a star crossed couple
And a vindictive ex-girlfriend
You see we made it against the odds
Your friends have always made fun of my friends
Cause my friend spend all of their time on Tumblr, and going to ****** concerts
And My friends make fun of yours for never giving us a chance
And your ex, makes fun of both of our friends because she doesn’t know the phrase “let it go”
this is no longer relavent this guy ******* cheated on me after 4 days
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