I woke up this morning a high school graduate
everything is different now
I am wiser, stronger, better
I am ready for the next chapter of my life
for the real world
high school is an illusion
only a dream
nothing outside of the workforce is real
education is a fun house
mirrors warping reality
smoke and reflections and funnel cakes
I'm so glad I'm an adult now
this piece of paper told me so

rhyming poetry?
Do I look like Doctor Seuss?
I'll stick with free verse

finally i muster up the courage to tell You how i feel
i proclaim my love for You
You wrap me up in Your embrace
Suddenly, our clothes are gone
we're in my bed
my room is clean
You love me
we kiss
i smile
suddenly we hear a loud beeping
i'm awake now
clothed
alone
You love him

bite your tongue
but don't make it bleed
the blood mingles with the stifled words in your mouth
and makes them too personal, too powerful
impossible to keep in
blood keeps pouring out along with your soul
your voice reaches a sanguine bravado
offending people with statements you believe wholeheartedly

remember middle school?
**** that ****.

love me.*
(**** intended)

all I want is for
Taystee to be happy and
never see Vee again

i'm graduating.
tomorrow
twenty hours
who let this happen
let me go back to crayons and finger weaving
or at least to factoring
i am no adult
the world is no more ready for me than i am for her.

i've never been kissed.
no one has ever pushed a few stray hairs out of my face,
lightly touched my chin,
and pressed their velvet lips against mine.
i've never been caressed.
no one wants to slowly drag their fingers up my thigh
or hold my hand until our palms are both sweaty.
i've never been held.
no one has ever put their body against mine
so i could feel the rise and fall of their chest
synchronized perfectly with mine.
i've never been loved.
no one has ever written me a poem
so sappy, i couldn't decide whether to melt or laugh.
no one ever will.

"there are two sides to every story" my mother says when I suggest that my brother could be a feminist.
I'm tired of the "her outfit" side of the story.
I'm tired of the "make me a sandwich" side of the story.
I'm tired of the "friendzoned again" side of the story.
I'm tired of the "woman gets acid thrown on her for rejecting advances" side of the story.
I'm tired of any side of the story that marginalizes me for my gender.

Your voice
Your bangs
the way You don't take misogynist **** from anyone
Your passion for Bukowski
the way You make me feel like i'm not worthless
that signature scent that i can't quite decipher
Your hugs
i love when You pull me against your chest and i can breathe in and for a few moments, there is only You in my entire world
Your devotion to and unapologetic love for One Direction
how opinionated You are
i love your weird, even twisted sense of humor
how i can tell You anything

i sigh and bite my lip
i can't hear Your words anymore
all i can hear is the sound of tears
rushing to my eyes, ready to pour
and an indistinct hum i recognize
as Your voice
usually poetry to me
instead just puts a lump in my throat
and leaves my chest hollow.
i search the ground for my composure
but find only an insincere smile
i'm just hoping that You can't tell
that my heart just shattered like cheap glass on tile.
why'd i have to notice Your smile?

incandescent
ethereal
****
onomatopoeia
antidisestablishmentarian­ism
ablaze
******
chaos
empirical

i haven't written
a haiku since i was young
what a tragedy

the beauty of nature is lost on a piece of millennial **** like me
what's a tree?
who knew the air outside could be breathable.
I'm utterly lost without the artificial glow of my iPhone.
if I don't know who is eating Chipotle at any given moment
I will lose my mind.
what do you mean you "played outside" and "talked to each other" before the internet?
I call *******.

Boyfriend*
the word hits me like a truck
full of **** i was ready to tell You
and the fuzz that's clogging my lungs and heart and eyes.
i smile
i have to
Your joys are mine
You're happy so i am.
i reach down my throat and shove down the lump
it crushes the delicate butterflies in my stomach
they never stood a chance anyway
of course this was inevitable
look at You. You're amazing.
i am looking at You
with longing and admiration
but hopefully not the terrible grief i feel
what's the point anyway.
why risk it.
i am happy
You are so i am.
i pick up the pieces of my heart
being careful to avoid the mulch
we don't want splinters of course
the swings are wet
but maybe i could launch myself into another reality where i'm good enough if i swing harder, higher, faster, better.
now, i'm alone
just thinking.
so are You but not of me.
but i'm happy
You are so i am.