I run my thumb over the stretch marks on the inside of my thighs.
Smooth grooves, not deep, not long,
Reminiscent of the weight gained
That made my *** expand and boys notice me,
Not because they liked me
But because they saw this growth.
These lines tell a short story
About my transition into adulthood.
My transition into catcalling and
Being called bubble **** and
Being told I must be able to dance because of my ***.
Small creases, barely noticeable
But significant to my life
My being
Our pain.
I am not proud of these marks
That become visible every time I sit
Criss-crossed and quickly realize they’re there again and move my legs together.
No, I am not proud of these marks.

I used to pray to the moon
Because it was the only thing that made
Sense.
Walked outside on brightly lit nights,
Pressed my nervous palms together
And wished.
See,
The moon was constant.
I could see it there on the darkest of nights.
It had cycles that never broke and
A face that never changed.
I kneeled to its beauty and
Begged it for love.
I knew it couldn't answer me.
I knew it wouldn't help.
But it always made more sense.

the clock is ticking
hold your breath, suppress your scream
the night is coming

It starts with something small—
Missed plans, the tiniest thing gone wrong.
And all of a sudden it's a downward spiral.
Fear, unrest, paranoia sets in
And like a volcano, there's no stopping it once it's started.
You can only sit and watch yourself burn—
Until everything cools and hardens.

sometimes it's like i feel too much.
waves of emotions overwhelm me
and i am powerless against its force.

it's like i feel everything deeper.
canyons and trenches could not compare
to the depths of what makes me, me.

somehow i feel everything for longer.
droughts have ended faster
than i have been able to let go.

my emotions build and dissipate
more quickly than the rain falls.
one minute thunder, the next a rainbow.

i don't believe in god
but this sickness makes me pray.
pray to hurt less,
maybe for just one day.

i don't believe religion can heal people.
but i drown myself in holy water
hoping i'll see a change.

i don't believe in the holy ghost
but man do i wish he'd help me.
i could use a little guidance
when its late at night
and my thoughts consume me.

i don't believe in heaven
but the finality of death scares me.
how much id love to think
we, greedy humans,
get a second chance at living.

i don't believe in hell,
but that may be where i go.
for I've sinned too many times to count
and had too many conversations with the devil.
but from what I've seen of this place
i think i might already be there.