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Xian Aug 2016
She* was dolled up, high heeled,
All smiley faced.
Beside her, a handsome date stood
He made her heart race.

I was forced to wear an **** dress
And pinchy heels,
Discarded somewhere later in the night.
Oh right!
I was also made to bring a handsome date,
Did I mention that I wasn’t straight?

She danced.
Soon enough, everyone was in a trance.
Exhilirating, beer and boys
Her squad rejoiced.

I thought parties were cool,
Went to one that had a pool.
Turns out,
It was just hella loud.
At first,I was excited.
Now, I just wished I wasn’t invited.

She was blooming,
Just turned eighteen.
Fancy dinner and
The debutante, a stunner.
Could I be any farther?

I wanted a road trip with my friends
To somewhere cold.
We could open gates made of sand to unload.
Intimate, hidden
With drinks and memories
Tucked inside seashells
That resurfaced like waves.

Hands, skin, bones, muscle, vein, mole,
Her own soul, she gave
To a boy who loved her just the same.
Emotions spread, lapsed
Like vines, crawled, slow
But just as beautiful when its flowers bloomed.
Because baby, she waited for you.

I, on the other hand
At the ripe age of seventeen,
Still waiting for a queen,
My head between my knees
I realize I’m still hiding.
Mind, in constant doubt of ***** skin,
Tradition and isolation
For now I am still abiding.

Tradition is a resonating nightmare
Wraps its fingers,
From the nape of your neck.
And after all this, I am still happy
Shaking my kaleidoscope,
I don’t need to fit in to feel complete.
Xian Jul 2016
it begins with a girl,
a hopeful heart
and a little imagination

It begins with an exchange of names,
sneaked glances
and a few possibilities.

it begins when my palm
meets my chin,
when my eyes
meet yours
and I start to wonder
what could happen if
we spread
like ink on paper,

i sat up in bed,
the date on my bedside clock read

fast and lyrical,
conversations above water
and chances in the air.

then it really begins
whispers into shells
because we know
that the universe
might hear our secrets,

jokes that make no sense
I laugh anyway
because I'm too consumed
with the smiles
that your presence brings,
and playful banter
that ends in pinched cheeks

and the greatest moments of silence,
silence that is understood,
rare and kept close
to hearts of those
lucky enough to find it.

All of these beginnings
are far-fetched and honestly,
I don't know what happens after that
but I'd really love to see
if I can predict futures.

And so,
do you maybe,
want to see
if these predictions
will unfold?
Xian Jul 2016
Brown, messy table
Dim light and stained fingertips;
A new poem lives
Xian Jul 2016
I am no great poet,

or skilled novelist,

I am a lover.

Which I deem is both greater and worse.

I do not write

or squabble.

I write all of you down on paper

with my heart,

squeezed into my pen.

Your beauty overtakes my canvas

But I am no artist either.

You make the strokes,

as if I am your puppet

and I paint you down,

a billionaire's masterpiece.

You skin me alive,

until all my worries subside.

For all I am

Is what you do to me.

Tell me, what am I?
Xian Jul 2016
Carnival in the city, you looked at me
Soft flickers,
Bulbs that kept me awake.
Spoke to me in vintage music
I was a clown.

​Carnival in the city, you squeezed my chest.
Pulled me by my pigtails,
Thrusted into pastel carousels at rest
Turned into empire state rollercoasters
I wailed,
I wasn’t tall enough to ride yet.

But I liked it.
Cotton candy in my best tulle dress,
I’ve got my frilly socks in a mess,
I thought there was nothing else across.
You got me stuffed bears at the ring toss.

We spun too fast.
The bulbs flickered off.
I wiped the paint off my face and
​Caught sight of the Carnival in the country instead.
And your beauty dissipates.

— The End —