I still reference you in conversations.
I still smell your flannels.
I wonder how soft your hair is today.
I kiss the walls of the shower just to hear the same pop our lips would make.
I wish I had endless pictures of your collar bones and eyes.
I wish I had endless access to your thighs and chest and that dot on your neck.
When I *** I say your name.
Your voice recordings aren't the same.  I want you to call and put me to sleep with your breath and I want this all without the repercussions.

I want you to be my friend.
And I want the benefit of you being my lover again.

I have the unfortunate belief that
my self-worth lies in the quality of my hair.
It may sound ridiculous, but it's true.

Go ahead, touch my hair.
I feed off of your fascination
-though I remain engaged only as long as you do-
my tolerance for my hair is equivalent to its length.

I once had someone tell me
"I like your hair better straight"
And that was when fifth grade ruined me.

I thought by changing they would accept me.
And Daniel would like me like he liked Taylor
and all of my likes would be returned and
Eddie would choose me because we were best friends
and I had the fortune of being beautiful
but I wasn't allowed to be beautiful to him because
I have this hair.

People wonder why I spend hours with an iron.
But when you're so different that
boys won't like you because your hair is curly
and you teeth are crooked you have no choice but to
change the things that are in your power.

I could never make myself fully white
But I sure as hell can straighten my hair
and let Mamaw buy me braces.
They can call you giraffe neck still,
but at least your hair is straight like everyone else.

Yes, you like to touch it and it's "neat" and it's "soft"
But why on earth should that matter to me?
People respect my hair because it is mine.
But he will not love it unless it is like hers-
wind-caught silk that hangs to her waist.

I weep for my hair.
I weep for my hair.

You do not understand how different it is.
You do not understand how hard it is
to stick out like a sore thumb because your
genetics were oppressed for 500 years.

I am ugly
Because of my hair.
No number of people telling me of its beauty will matter
because I cannot see it.

He cannot see it either.

You make my skin crawl
In a neutral way.

You make me leave the room
Then wish I had stayed.

I think ill of you
Half off the day.

Yet I cling to every harsh
word that you say.

With you I'm either weak
or a raging *****.

Even though you're the one
with a tiny ****.

Crossing paths with you
lights my mind on fire.

Yet your not someone I've come
to love or admire.

Your an imperialistic
**** worshiping ****.

So someone please explain why
I feel like the schmuck.

Death
On 9/11

Unhealthy food
In Seven-Eleven

Instagram-
"No thank you ma'am."

Television, news-
is society's bruise

Makes me wanna
drink** *****

Because

Probody's Nerfect.

I've got a problem.
A habit, really.
Of freaking out over my reality.

I wake up one morning.
Not feeling so great.
My stomach's in a knot and my heart palpitates.

I scream. I cry.
My whole world's in a wry.
Looking for answers on the internet.


But then.
Something happens.
He takes me outside.

And everything's not as bad as I thought it was.
Not bad at all.

"Why is this **** man single?"

Why indeed?
He's tall and lean, nice but never mean.
He rolls in dirt yet always seems clean
to me.

Why indeed?
With soft arms that should hold
Only a girl who is beautiful and bold
like me.

So Why indeed?
Hasn't he let me
Tell him how good he looks
in his recessive jeans?

Why indeed?
Isn't he
with me?

I have a strong dislike for you.

At first it was fine.
You tried to cater and be kind.
Make me feel like your home was mine.
But now I must express why I hate you
half of the time.

You became clingy-
and it went downhill from there.

You make me want to be small again.
To shrink in size so that you may carry me
and wrap me up in your arms.

You make me want to be vulnerable.
To dream a nightmare so that you will hold me
and tell me it will be okay.

But the most beautiful thing
is that you don't need me to be small or vulnerable.
Because you do it anyway.

It's Dahlia season.
The bulbs are in full bloom.







It's Dahlia season.
And I still don't have you.

"Let's rob a ******' bank."
we agreed.
"Let's rob a ******' bank!"
indeed.

You know that's against my rules
But the thought of doing it with you makes it acceptable.

**** these feelings.
**** that dream.

We didn't rob a ******* bank
but we danced
and you whispered
and I shivered
then woke up.

The brush of lips replay in my head
over
and over
and over
again.

Why do I fall for my friends?
I fall so hard yet in the end
I get nothing in return
but the weight of gravity
and the floor of reality
showing it was all pretend.

I know there's nothing wrong with me.
You just don't feel that way.
... maybe you do-
Maybe I'm just not cool
enough.

But I'd rob a bank with you.

Peace is hearing Sinatra sing again.

Words are ****.
They make me want to rip a pillow with my teeth
Or marinate in a sensuous heat.
Where you'll be, sitting there.
Waiting to kiss my spine and touch my hair.
Tell me regaling tales of what you think.
Of what is rational or obsolete.
Worlds like Suggestive, Sarcastic.
Forlorn and Bombastic.
Makes my skin melt and heart palpitate.
I will no longer settle for those who are adequate.
I need substance. I need someone (you) to say.
That you're enamored and beg me to stay.
I want that learned passion that only we
could portray.

Why don't I think you're hot?
Other girls do more often than not.
Thinking of you leaves my stomach in knots.
So why do I hesitate if I like you a lot?

I cannot be seen with a pear.

Not in this environment.
Where opinions torment
And my affections lay dormant.

My view of you is tainted
What was once reasonable restraint
Is now repulsion and complaint.

I am sorry, dear friend.
But I cannot stand the sight of you.
I wince at the thought of what we used to do.

No more Frank. No more Dean
I want my memory wiped clean.
I cringed when I remember the times you touched me.

The smack of lips is the worst.
From my mouth profanities burst.
It is a shame to think that of my first.

It was pleasant at the time.
But I have to draw a line.
Now I bare the burden of these visions in my mind.

Your smell still lingers.
That stupid ring on your finger.
No wonder we were terrible swingers.

I can bare to text.
but I refuse to sit next to you.

I am sorry to say
Away from me you must stay.
I don't want to see you anyway.

I could never be seen with a pear.
Because I'm superficial and I care
About what people think.

No, it's not fair.

Why is it you?
Of all people to have the ability to ruin me
why is it you? Bryan?

You're awkward and too tall
on top unmitigated gall
you're plain rude.

So why do I want you?
Bryan?

In my mind there's a collection
of every time you've shown affection
and

The slightest inclination
only heightens my determination
to trip you.

I want you to fall hard
for me. Bryan.

With every facebooked text
it's been my only request
for the whole year.

Did you notice?
Bryan?

When the smallest appreciation
left my pupils dilated
it's so degrading

When my faith in you is fading
more praise is awaiting
I am stuck in this net.

What's so unfair
is that you're not even aware
of what you do to me.

If I told you, would you love me?
Bryan?

Am I conceded if I suddenly love myself?

Am I conceded if think I'm beautiful?
Because I do.

I think I'm smart and witty and
so ******* wise.

I'm even starting to like my hair.


Does that make me conceded?

****.
Eddie Eddie Eddie.
I'm just at this stop sign.
Minding my own radio stations and avocado smoothie.
Of course you pull up next to me.
Of course you look away casually.
Of course you're wearing a plain white tee.
And don't you look so good in it Eddie.
****.
So unfair.
My car is here and yours is there and
I'm trying not to stare but
How can I not be aware of my biggest crush? EVER?
With his blonde hair.
It never was fair how this black girl
Yearned for green eyes that never cared back girl.
While the sun is always on my mind
You come up sometimes and it's stupid.
"You stupid
****"
I think, sometimes.
Because she's little stupid-
The little girl who followed boys home.
The one who would wait for emails before we had phones.
The one who grew up and still doesn't know what the **** to do so she calls her mom in the parking lot asking for advice because she desperately wanted to follow him to his destination and learn everything about his day so she could better coordinate her outings in order increase her chances of seeing him again but she knows that's creepy and her mom says so too.
That girl, is dumb.
Eddie.
But you're dumb too.
You dumb ****.
No, you're smart and funny and so **** **** I want to **** my self.
I hate being so beautiful and so clueless that it goes to waste sometimes.
Eddie Eddie Eddie.
You make me really nervous.
So *******.

When I read your poems
I want nothing more than to be close to you.
Intimately, not Romantically.
I want to sit next to you
and take your hands
I want to look at the scars and wonder.
Wonder why you do those things to yourself
why it's so hard to talk to you
Wonder why you chose to be my friend.

I want to take your hands in mine
and kiss your palms
and look into your eyes with a reassuring smile
that tells you everything's going to be okay.
But I can't.

I can't because you terrify me.
You terrify us all.
You're handsome and unknown.
You terrify us because we know nothing about you
accept for the scars.
I want to kiss and hold those scars.

I want to not be afraid anymore.

If I responded with "I'm doing good."
You'd say "You're doing well."

If I said "Oh! The king from Thor was-"
You'd say "Odin. His name is Odin."

If I asked "What did you think of the movie?
You'd say "It was terrible. The dialogue was atrocious, the plot was  sloppy, the actors were bellow par and I hated the fact that they both survived"

If I told you "I love you."
You'd say "I know"

You're just so Vulcan...
But I've always liked Vulcans.

Beloved Girl,
I need to be grateful for you.

I need to be grateful for all of the things you've done-
To make me feel better
To give me food and comfort
To tell me stories and answer my questions
To be there even when I didn't want you to be

I need to be grateful for you. And I need to apologize.

I need to apologize-
For when I snapped at you
For when I got my chair instead of getting your food
For when I became angry because they liked you too
Because I was afraid that they wouldn't like me anymore.

You are a star. A beautiful star that can drive me absolutely nuts because you just want us to see it.

But I do now.

I need to be grateful and I need to apologize
And I would like to thank you

Thank you for inspiring me.

Thank you for being a relentlessly good friend.

Thank you for sticking around until I found my gratitude.

Relationship
You used to bring such longing for me.
Such hope.
Such solace that,
Once I obtained the contents of your letters,
I could be happy.
I could be complete.

relationship
What a different *relationship we have now.

relationship

GAH-     ****! Where did you come from??
I was just reading an article and there you were.
Sitting there.
Out of context of my constant thoughts, but I can't help but apply you.
I can't help but panic.

The word relationship. My new biggest fear.
The collection of the consonants and vowels that make up a vocalization for my soul anxieties.

Relationship
I cringe at thee.
Hours of pouring over videos, how-tos, books, guides, diy, people, you, me, him, her, them, we, us, future, communicate, self-love, expectations, desire, infidelity, falling in love, falling out of love, love, lust, true love, more self-love, thoughts, peace, gratitude, forever, temporary, fleeting, cheating, shame, truth, lies,
all in the ******* name of

Relationship

I could quit.

But how can you quit on someone
That is only eighteen years old
And has already based the foundation of their life on

you?

Those flowers spill out
Over the sides like your soul spills out of your clothes
Onto the floor in front of me
Where I watch in amazement because you're everything I've ever Wanted to be.
The smoke of your husbands pipe leads the way
Through the door past the kitchen
Into the room where you lay
With chickens and pottery
You tumble out of your chair
And I
Tumble into your arms as if
It was my birthday instead of yours.
I would drive a thousand miles to eat your humus and hear your words.

You have everything I've ever wanted to have.
Teach me.
I will bring you as many tall vases as you want.
Teach me.
I will bring will make you as many flower arrangements as you need.

I brought you two large pizzas.
You only asked for one small.
You never thanked me.

It made me want to drive home without wearing a seat belt.

You know chicken is a premium topping, right?

I see who you say you are, and I hear of the things you do.
I am above it, and my self-awareness never clouds my view.
But your outer shell is so innocent, like a gentle morning dew.
The girls begin to salivate when they speak of "you know who."

What was the meaning behind that message? God I wish I knew.
You should have made your intentions clear before you bid me adieu.
Your then brief words now stick to me, like a sickly residue.
You're a dangerous one who could devour me and I'd prefer a safer brew.

I'd like to think you could change- but we both know this isn't true.
So I'll just think of that dream and that oh-so soft, sweet taboo.
I don't know who you write about or what she does for you,
but I'll never admit that I'm the one who I want you to pursue.

I pride myself on having excellent self-control.
When it comes to drugs and alcohol
I simply don't do drugs
and feel most comfortable drinking with my parents.

This doesn't make me a *****.
It just makes me self-aware.

In fact, I pride myself on being self-aware.
When It comes to emotions and ***
I identify my emotions
And I don't let my hormones pressure me into anything.

But that's just it.
How long can I keep that up?
My resolve is bending.
It's far from breaking, but I'm doubting my ability to hold it strong.

Like I said, your hand is literally burning into my side.
And I love it.
But I don't love you.

I can tell my options are multiplying and
the attention I get is expanding and
I am terrified of making the wrong choices.

I pride myself on self-control and awareness
but they just make me more ignorant.
I know what's going through my head
but I don't know what's going on with my body.

For now, I'll put you all in a box and observe you.
It's not because I don't want to be close to you,
It's because I literally have not ******* I idea what to do.
Literally no clue.

So I'll just wait to see who brings me Dahlias first.

Hello, cute boy from my English class.
Who makes up secret handshakes and tolerates my laugh.
I thought you were common, simply sporty and tall.
But resent discovery shows that's not right at all.

Love blooms in winter, and I'm noticing some rain.
It begins to hail and snow when someone says your name.
I can no longer write poetry and my homework is past due.
My mind is too distracted with the need to talk to you.

So let us talk, my dear. Let us conversate.
Let's talk for so long we get to class late.
Today's a conversation but tomorrow is a kiss.
In your eyes I see the future and in your hands I'll find my bliss.

I am wasted on the idea of affection.

Of it I drink daily.
I sip and I sip
until my swollen heart aches in its lonely abiss

Many wonder why I weep so often.
But you could never know the pain of a hangover with a soul as drunk as mine.

I want conversation and car rides,
long nights of green eyes.

I want pastries with whipped cream,
text messages that make me kiss the screen.

I want belted Frank Sinatra,
followed by Moonlight Sonata.

I want gifts I can't afford
that you bought when you were bored.

I want to be calmed and collected,
defended and protected.

I want knowledgeable open-minds,
loquacious words to be defined.

I want my hands to be called soft
and looked at more often

I want my neck to be smelled
then my face to be held.

I want impressed parents,
please share your organic carrots.

I want admiring looks
over the top of Ayn Rand's books.

I want a loss of words
over a song that you just heard.

I want minor disputes
over ideas that don't compute.

I want you to continue to listen
when I question your decisions.

I want button-ups and bowties
that make you different from most guys.

I want time to freeze
and for you to always need me.

I want envious stares
from people who shouldn't care.

I want effortless chemistry
to attract me helplessly.

I want tension filled days,
say you want me with a gaze.

I want my back to be a painting so scandalous
you brush your lips up and down the canvas.

I want clean, boring sheets
to be livened with heat

that I provided.

I want you to be excited

when I come around.

Roses are Red
Violets are blue-





I got nothin'.

I must remain silent.  
As she sleeps on the floor of my room, surrounded by wet tissues.
I must remain silent.
Until she is ready to bring justice.
I must remain silent.
When my friend is ***** and is looking for refuge.
I must remain silent.
When the worst, most violent, horrendous, and personal crime is committed against someone I love.
I must remain silent.

I must remain silent.
Simply because:

She wants me to be.
And when someone you love has her wants disobeyed in the most gruesome way.
You must remain silent.
You must not tell the story that does not belong to you.

What I would give for your attention.
I would give a lot.
What I would give to not have to give
for me to be in your thoughts.

What I would give for your affection.
I've given it much thought.
I would return the pencil you gave me
which doesn't happen a lot.

What I would give for you to look my direction
Without you thinking someone else it hot.
What I would give for an emotional connection
that would occur more often than not.

            What I would give to know what to give
                                           because I know your love can't be bought.

Could it be?
A once small crush might pine for me?

How pleasant that would be.
We'll have to wait and see....



If I **** it up again.

I will let this happen.
I will wash all away.
I will melt into your body
as it keeps my mind at bay.
I will not over-think
I will not think at all.
I will simply enjoy it
let you leave me enthralled.
I will not question my feelings
I will not indulge the doubts.
I will let you remind me
what our love is about.
I will not weep anymore
unless the tears are of joy
or the beautiful fact
that you are my boy.

I hope the day comes when I can tell you

That I want to be the one that makes your hands stop shaking

Or your lips stop cracking

I want to tell you how good you look in your recessive genes.

I lay in bed as we both text Kelly asking if we're doing okay.

Today, I want to say things to your face. I want to look into your green eyes and tell you that you're doing a fine ******* job.

Today, I want you to tell me that I am beautiful and that you won't leave me when my hair becomes curly again.

Today, I want us to be perfectly honest in who we are and love very second of it.

Today, I want you to hold me and tell me how interesting I am and that I smell nice.

Jack Gerving
Jack Gerving
You are all too deserving
Of a slap in the face.

Jack Gerving
Jack Gerving
Not a slight bit discerning
And easy to hate.

Jack Gerving
Jack Gerving
You'd better start learning
Before it's too late.

Jack Gerving
Jack Gerving
Dreams of terrorists burning
Don't let them procreate.

Jack Gerving
Jack Gerving

Jack Gerving the Great.

You're growing fonder of me, I can tell.
But the position I'm in hurts like hell.

I love you.
I really think I do.
It may have always been there, or maybe it's something new.

We have nothing in common, you and I.
And to say I didn't care would be a lie.

We're just brown.
Together, in this white town.
That's the only reason you have me around.

You're cocky and scholastic.
genius and bombastic.

Capable of being more
Than the school system's *****.
I hope you discover all that life has in store.

I love you.
But I hate the things you do.

I don't want to be your mom.
I try hard to remain calm.
Even if I think this path is wrong.

You overt your eyes in the hall
And it drives me up the wall

Your dark hair and dark eyes.
The need for normal will be our demise.
Being brown friends is no compromise.

That's why I'm so ******* you.
Even though I don't mean to.

You're too busy with applications
And pursuing dull aspirations
You're lack of time for love fuels my frustration.

But for now I'll shut my mouth.
Let your plan play out.
I'll find other things for us to talk about.

Like how brown we are.