Something in my body stirs
As I toss and turn in my bed.
I dream of a castle with my own quarters
And a fair prince who's stuck in my head.

The castle is high above the clouds
In skies so pleasantly blue.
With no toil or care or angry crowds,
And I dream that you'll be there too.

But the dream is fleeting, it leaves me alone
Until once again in those skies I may roam.

I. When I was 5, I thought recess was probably the best thing ever invented. Until the first autumn rainfall, when the sky opened up and unleashed it's sorrow unto the earth. The children were kept inside that day. As the storm thundered on around us, we ran to play on the other side of the classroom. The boys charged to the shelf with legos and blocks, while the girls lined up at the miniature kitchen. I followed them to the tiny toy oven, even though, secretly, I thought those lincoln logs looked really fun.

II. When I was 6, I thought my first grade teacher was the sweetest woman to ever have lived. Then, one day she lined us to to go outside, calling out, "Boys on one side, girls on the other" reminding of us of a divide between genders that we did not understand. Marking off differences on a checklist that none of us had read yet.

III. When I was 7, like most little girls I daydreamed of the perfect wedding. The part I played over and over in my head was my brother walking me down the aisle, "giving me away". Because even in the second grade, some part of me knew that I belonged to the men in my life.

IV. When I was 8, I learned that the praise I'd receive from the boys I called my brothers would always be conditional. No matter what award I received, how fast I ran, how tough I fought, how smart I was, I'd always be "pretty good for a girl". And that is never a compliment.

V. When I was 9, the YMCA told me I had to stop playing the sport I'd loved for 5 years because I was a girl. I took my first feminist stand by quitting, because I don't care what they say, softball and baseball are not the same thing.

VI. When I was 10, my brother informed me that the day I brought home a boyfriend was the day he bought a gun. Because that's how you protect your property.

VII. When I was 11, a boy ran up to me on the playground and told me I was cute. For a moment, I felt confident, a feeling that was foreign to me. Until the boy and his friend started laughing uncontrollably, as if they couldn't believe that I'd ever think that was true. I cried a lot that day because I hadn't yet realized that my self worth wasn't directly proportional to how many boys found me attractive.

VIII. When I was 12, my aunt gave me my first make up kit for my birthday. When my grandmother tried to force me to wear it, I refused, yelling, "It's my face!" She proceeded to tell me that I'd never get a boyfriend with that attitude. After all, who was I to want to be in control of my own body?

IX. When I was 13, I thought gym was a subject invented by sadistic hell fiends created just to torture teenage girls. It was the hottest day of the year, and I'd just ran a mile, so I opted not to change out of my tank top before continuing on to my next class. A teacher cornered me at my locker, advising me to put on a jacket before I became a distraction to the boys.

X. When I was 14, I confessed to my mother the wanderlust inside of me. Exclaiming about travelling to new places, having new experiences. That's when she looked me dead in the eye and told me to always take someone with me. Preferably, a man. I couldn't bring myself to be angry. We both knew what happened to women alone on the streets, and I felt bad for the way I made her eyes shine with worry each time I left the house without her.

XI. I am 15, and I walk with my fists clenched and my head down. I am always conscious of what clothes I wear and whether or not they could attract "the wrong kind of attention". I attempt to shield myself from the world, but I can feel my barriers cracking with each terrifying statistic, each late night news story, each girl that was never given justice. The world is a war zone, and every woman must put her armor on before walking outside. My life has been one battle after the next. I am a 15 year old war veteran, and have the scars to prove it. I've learned from my experiences and am left with just one question:

At what age does the war end?

"Gabrielle" was a name falling from my grandmother's lips,
as I was rushed to the NICU, the doctors asked my name,
and my grandmother uttered a word that was more like a promise.

Gabrielle is the female form of Gabriel, the angel that brought the news of the birth of Jesus to townspeople, like how my grandmother brought the news of my birth to the hospital waiting room, where my ten year old brother was beginning to understand what it meant to be a man, and my other grandma threw a fit about my new moniker.

The name Gabrielle means "gift from god" and my life itself was a gift as no one knew how long I'd be around to live it, the odds of a tiny baby hooked up to wires and tubes. God gave me the gift of life, as I was born without breathe, my lungs not ready for this world, he gave me a second chance, and I opened up my mouth and cried.

Gabrielle meant a name, and a name meant a life, a family, a place in the world.

Growing up I loathed my name, hopping between nicknames, wishing I had been given anything else for a title, but now I know I would not trade it for the world.

To reject my name is to erase the prayer that fell from my grandmother's lips the moment I was born.

Marissa Ann was a firecracker of a little girl.
For her, there was no fence too tall to climb, no bully too mean to face, no street too busy to cross.
She was all tangled hair and toothy grins.
And she'd yank the book right out of my hands and say, "Gabrielle, we have more important things to do than read."

In the jungle of our lives, Marissa was a lioness, queen of the pride.
I was a mouse not indigenous to these parts of the second grade.
The world was a terrifying place, and I had no problem cowering in the corner, knee-deep in a pile of Nancy Drew.
I tried to stay huddled behind my words, drowning in the ink, attempting to let the pages be my armor.
Marissa would not let me.
When I allowed bookshelves to be my shields, she came guns blazing, and kicked them all down, then stood me back up on my feet.
She'd grab my hand and pull me head first toward adventure.

Marissa was tough, and everyone knew it.
There was not a soul alive brave enough to pick on Marissa Ann.
But me? I was an easy target.
The other girls said I was "weird" with my enormous wire frames resting atop full cheeks, and my frayed jeans, a glowing reminder of my mother's lack of wealth.
I heard the whispers on the playground about the chubby girl who read, (can you believe it?), chapter books.

Brianna was a demon of a child.
She'd bat her pretty little eyelashes and everyone would melt.
She had the entire second grade class wrapped around her tiny little finger.
She'd corner me on the soccer field and do everything she could to remind me that I was different.
But one day at recess, she was nowhere to be found, until I made my way through winding halls, back to the warmth of our classroom.

There sat Marissa with a devilish glint in her eye, waving me over to sit in the desk beside her.
Behind us, a sniffling Brianna, looking forlornly at the teardrop stains on her pink lace skirt, her mouth pulled tight into a perfect straight line.
I looked back at Marissa with a curious glance, then intertwined her hand with my own.
The sound of stifled sobs behind us and the warmth of her skin on mine sealing an unspoken vow between two girls with puzzle piece fingertips that only fit each other.

you were like a drug,
when you were around me i was filled to the brim with ecstasy
and when you weren't all i could think about was how to get another hit, another fix, another glance into your soul
forever desperate to hear the sound of your voice, or to catch a glimpse of your alabaster skin
i was like a ******, filled with longing for the way you said my name, your lips curving around each and every syllable, the intimacy of my name on someone's else's lips
you kept our hands firmly intertwined, and while i know that this was just your way of being friendly i couldn't help but to tuck this information away as evidence of your love,
the way your eyes flitted down to my unbuttoned shirt, proof of your want

as our legs wrapped around each other like ivy tangling on the side of a fence, you remained perfectly composed, unaffected
while i slowly fell apart, a fool in my longing,
you leaned forward to whisper simple truths in my ear, as we traded admissions that barely counted as secrets, stories and guilty pleasures were our currency and our conversations a marketplace
we were rich in our words, overflowing piles of confessions and declarations
drunk with the moment, and the sound of saxophones somewhere in the distance

i woke in the morning, ashamed and afraid, to face your excellence in the light of day, but it seemed you were willing to turn the tables
as i sat in front of you on those autumn red chairs, and i heard the uncertainty in your voice as you whispered to the girl beside you that you remembered nothing of the night before
instead of feeling that familiar wave of relief, what i felt was all the air leaving my lungs, as if someone had just kicked me in the stomach,

the feeling of having my soul ripped out, only to be released into the wild, like an animal no one wanted to tame

My brother,
Mama worked 14 hour days and we didn't have a Daddy
I was only a kid, but now I realize, so were you
And you shouldn't have had to become a father at sixteen, but you were just trying to fill up the empty spaces in our jumbled lives and too-big house
But life with you was anything but empty
There were so many things you could have done at that age, but you didn't because you were far too busy taking care of a little blonde girl who looked at you as though you were the moon and stars and she had never seen the night sky before
I remember sitting on your lap, one hand wrapped around my waist, the other holding a pen, as you tried to finish your homework, while still helping me with mine
And I remember the nights when Mama came home too exhausted to speak, and you tried to cook us dinner, even though all you knew how to make was discount frozen pizza

Brother,
You were always waiting for me with a joke or a smile
Never anything but gentle
But there were days when the world handed you hatred and pain until you couldn't help but to unleash the demons that were hiding right below the surface
You would lose your temper and shout at me, every second your voice was raised was another second of tears streaming down my face
And I know you felt guilty, but I forgive you
You were only a child

Brother,
Do you remember Saturday mornings on the living room floor?
We used to watch cartoons together, sprawled out on the rug, your eyes were glued to the screen, watching Batman and Superman and all the rest fly across the sky
I never paid any attention to them, my eyes stayed glued to you, because you were always my favorite superhero

Brother,
I remember when you would pick me up after I fell on the sidewalk and scraped my knee
You were always there to stand me right back up once I fell
I saw the world from atop your shoulders
And when we watched Sleeping Beauty together you told me to never be a damsel in the distress, but to be the dragon instead
And I have always felt safe with you because I knew no matter how far I fell or how badly I was hurt, you would always be there to carry me

And now, brother, look at you,
You're 25 now, and younger than ever
You no longer have the burden of a child who expected you to shine as brilliantly as a constellation
You can relax and let the weight of my six year old body fall from your shoulders
Mama doesn't work quite as much, and you and I aren't quite as close
But maybe that's okay, because a bond like this can't ever be broken, as the shared experience of my first years on this earth tie us together
And I know that no matter how far I go, I'll always be tethered to you
At 15, I know that you don't have superpowers and I'll never be dragon, or a princess
But I do know that you keep teaching me new ways to be strong
And you know that whatever happens in life, we'll do it together, because we are comrades, perfect halves, best friends, siblings
And I look forward to the day when I'm strong enough to carry you.

your thigh, pressed tight against mine
the shared heat of our bodies travelling up to the blush on my cheeks as you recited poetry,
your voice, nothing more than a whisper,
i could feel each syllable of beauty on the crook of my neck as you inhaled and exhaled each word,
the letters tangled together in my brain, paying no attention to what you were saying, but how you said it,
the way the words consumed you, the way you spoke as if you didn't say these words right now they might somehow cease to exist

and this poetry you quoted in my ear must have been murmured in a hundred different ways, between a thousand different lovers, but it seemed like it was meant only for me
your voice the soundtrack of my mind, as i closed my eyes and soared to different galaxies, fantasy images of you and i, exploring the night sky and filling it with laughter and passionate kisses
to me you were the only person alive
the hitch in your breath bringing me crashing down to the reality of the school building, and the many people that filled its halls

you finished the poem, a little smile dancing across your face
and you told me how much you loved this poet, and as i watched your eyes shining with admiration, i prayed to whatever god would listen that someday you may learn to love me just as much

The boy you love now has ****** hair in the form of cinnamon crumbs sprouted across his jawline even though he protested he'd never do anything of the sort
The boy you love now loves a girl whose heart is made of stone, her love is nothing like yours, it is cold and calculated, like a killing  
The boy you love now won't even look you in the eye, he seems to think the silent treatment will do him some justice even though he was always the more talkative of the two of you
The boy you love now does any drug he can to keep his body numb and stop his mind from drifting to you
The boy you love now questions his existence without you by his side he now sees you in every corner of his mind and cannot go anywhere without hearing your name, you seem to have stolen the hearts of many. Nobody could understand why he left a girl like you, you were every boy's cup of tea even though you were a fan of coffee.
The boy you love now screams at the moon and has withdrawals from your bedside an it's now been a year & nine months since you saw each other last, however you're now the one who sleeps soundly
The boy you love now closes his eyes and details every inch of your body down on paper as he tries to remember the way your eyes glistened to water filled puddles when he told you he didn't love you anymore, He's never regretted anything more in his whole life I can tell you that for sure
The boy you love now vomits on his pride and his spine is withering away the day you burned away all his sweet nothing's he said he felt like he was being branded with cigarettes even though he hadn't seen you in months
The boy you love now thinks he's got it made however in just a few months time he'll be knocking on your doorstep with blood streaming from his face, he'll be broken in two but the question is will you?
The boy you loved now can't stand the taste of coffee because it reminds him of you, no matter how bitter he can't seem to swallow the thought of enjoying anything that makes him remember just how many sugars you liked
The boy you loved now shakes during winter time and is less of a man though he tries not to act like he misses you too much
The boy you loved now can't stand the thought of you with another and by now it's been about 8 years since you saw each other last, but he doesn't utter a word in your direction
The boy you loved is now falling apart at the roots and at 22 he looks like a mental patient, it's only been a few years and he can't seem to leave his room
The boy you loved now hates the smell of coconuts and raspberries & creme because that's what you smelled like most often
The boy you loved is now not the same--without you

*(v.m)

when i confessed to my mother the sins i had unleashed onto my own skin,
the zigzag scars crisscrossing my milky white thighs
as we sat on the couch sipping tea
i have many regrets of the things i repressed,
and my answers to the questions she asked

when we sat crying on the couch that first night,
i wish i'd said,
"i'm so depressed that everything takes up too much energy,
even breathing."
instead of,
"i just feel really overwhelmed."
maybe then, she wouldn't have decided that the road to recovery needed only a math tutor
and a 24-hour suicide watch

when she asked me, gently
if we should tell my grandmother
i wish i'd said,
"no, because she's always been part of the problem."
instead of nodding my head yes,
even while my eyes screamed the word no

when she forced me to go to therapy,
and asked me if it was helping
i wish i'd said,
"no. i'm broken so irreparably that a kind hearted, naive woman could not begin to put the pieces back together."
instead of,
"yeah, mom. she's nice."
as i started to dread the thursday afternoons spent sitting on her couch, trying to distract both her and myself
from the manic depressive elephant in the room