i was a worn dollar bill
folded and unfolded and crumpled so many times
that even the smell of worth had all but been rubbed off
those who rushed past stopped once or twice to ask me what was wrong
offering to carry those heavy bags under my eyes
not even they could bear the weight
they’d leave after a while, dropping condolences on their way
a trail of breadcrumbs i couldn’t bring myself to eat, let alone follow
sometimes i sang to the birds, the only things that would wake with me in the cold mornings
i washed my hands in freezing water
to jolt my nerves; to make them feel
to remind them they are part of me
and i am human
and i must feel
i carved my heart out for nothing
and it left me with a broken ribcage
slashed thighs and the marks from cigarettes
(i still won’t let him touch me there)

my life is a sweeping motion
of fleeting moments and
sweet whispers

i fell in love with you
as swiftly and slowly as a dream
and into the abyss we settled
together like sediments
in rain puddles
and you told me
i was beautiful

i fell in love with myself all the while
examining every line on my face
like they would fade out the next day
i came to memorize the ***** of my neck
the crook of my nose
and the bow atop my lip

my beauty is resonant
it sits on every word i say
shines through every glance i give
shocks those whom i touch
exuberant, blinding
i am sweet to the senses
i am fierce
fearsome
fearless
i am beautiful

my head is a thin glass vase
filled with remnants of dried flowers
and new buds and vibrant leaves
my heart is a paper lantern
vibrant, glowing
my body is a chandelier
made of sweet roses
icicles and papier-mache

do not touch me
for i will break

‘i feel violated’ she said with a laugh
flirting at the boy who just poked her
as I stared from across the table
the words repeating in my brain
like a broken record
he smiled and said “you like it”

She agreed

I wanted so badly to stand up and yell
to stand up and yell until my lungs gave up
until I got my point across
but I knew it would never happen

you don’t know violation until you stand in the shower
for hours, crying
praying, praying to someone you have no faith in
that maybe the pain will stop
you don’t know violation until you scrub what’s left of your self-worth
off of your chafing skin and the inside of your *******
although you know you’ll never wear them again
you don’t know violation until you have to cover up the bruises
with sweaters and long jeans and makeup
in the middle of august
you don’t know violation until you stay up all night
because the feeling of his hands and himself against you
prevents even the slightest hope of sleep
and what rest you get is plagued by the thoughts of his cocky smile
and the cold steel he placed on your neck and on the back of your head
you don’t know violation until you find a new love
yet you’re so **** terrified when he touches you
that you shrink back and start to shake
even if all he wanted was to stroke your cheek
and to tell you how beautiful you are
even if he meant everything he said
it still takes so much time to trust him
and you don’t know violation until you open up to your family
the ones you trust
and all they do is warn you not to dress so inappropriately
don’t you know how a boy’s mind works
don’t be a harlot
you don’t know violation
until your innocence is taken away from you
and in society’s eyes
you’re the only one to blame

I pulled on an oversized sweater
to stop my hands from shivering as I typed my soul out to you
I arranged the alphabet into a story
made only for you to ball up
and throw into the chute
down to the garbage pit in the back of your mind
it was thanksgiving and
you packed my things
and you left
everything the way it was
incomplete
you
left
me
standing in my room
twelve years old and confused
the grand return came
as I conquered ninth grade
and I pulled on oversized sweaters
to stop my mind from wandering towards the mirror
listening intently to my stepmother’s words
and the drunken cries to God
you wept yourself to sleep on the porch every night
and what was I to do but wonder
fourteen and impressionable
you left again
to find a better life than the bottle could supply
you wrote me letters on Tuesdays
signed with an Ichthys and a verse
and I pulled on oversized sweaters
to stop the chills that sank deep into my heart
on nights when I needed someone who wasn’t there
and found someone who
didn’t need to be there in the first place
sixteen and licentious
you came back
and stopped leaving
found contentedness in the bottom of a Bible
etsi deus non daretur
and I pulled on oversized sweaters
to silence the questions brought forth by my past.

did you find your words helpful?
were they meant to shape the minds of
the young girls, to teach them lessons
on how to please you,
or the young boys who were taught that
they deserved to be pleased
by us, the apparent human toy
perfectly wound, fit to the T?
unfortunately we aren’t fine-tuned
to the preset standard of your
preset mind, we are unique
we are beautiful
we are more than what we wear
and what we choose not to wear
more than a made up face,
more than a natural face
more than our ******* and our ***
we more than “entertainment”
we hold the future in the palm
of our wombs
and are entitled to the hair on our heads
arms
and face
and that will not be taken away
by anyone
we weren’t made to impress you
to make you comfortable
to appropriate our minds and our bodies
to your set-in-stone, biased view
of what a real woman should look and act like
a real woman is what she wants to be
not clay
for you to fit inside a corrupt
societal mold

they say that when
the chain of your necklace is twisted
it means someone is thinking about you
well, you must think of me often
i constantly fix it
back into a straight line
as i daydream of you
my heart beats
silent, deafening thumps
that spell out your name
i would stand my ground
but it is rather difficult
when i keep falling for you
and until the day i saw you
and felt that wonderful warmth
of you beside me
i hadn't quite realized
just how small my hands were

remember the first day we talked
and i was so flushed and rushed
confused but ready to start again with you
even if we were just friends

remember the first time i told you i loved you
though it wasn't a "just friends" sort of way
and though it may have been uncalled for
you accepted it with gratitude all the same
and that was okay

remember the first confession
we started dating at midnight
on a warm night in may
and while we lived miles apart
it felt like i was talking to someone
who was laying right beside me

remember our first fight
on my brother's birthday
and we said what we thought we meant
though looking at the today's date on the calendar
i feel that, quite honestly,  we exceed expectations

remember our first kiss
passionately awkward and wonderful
next to the window in my room
on a chilly day in november

it was unforgettable

in you I find comfort
I wrap the idea of you
around my heart like a blanket
it is warming
you resonate in the love songs
I play on repeat in the early morning
and the stars in the sky at night
I am mesmerized by you
quite simply

in elementary school we were told
to write interesting facts about ourselves
on the first day, to get to know one another
and at that time the only things i could think of
were that i collected nutcrackers
and had many siblings
i see myself in better lighting now
hello, i am emily
my middle name is kane,
my great grandmother's surname,
and i take pride in it
my fingers shake when i explain things
that i don't understand myself
and my legs shake on their own time
that's the quirk of a chronic tic
i draw to express myself to myself
and to show off
and to be better than the girl i met in the third grade
who painted a sunset
just a sunset
and all my friends ooh'd and ahh'd
and i sat there, confused
if savannah could paint a sunset
and get such a reaction,
then watch out world.
here i am, painting roses and butterflies and cartoons
on the cardboard backings of old spiral notebooks
i found in my closet
and leaving my sloppy signature in sea-foam green
on the corner and in the back of
my mind
and smudged on the side of my left hand
i have a scar on my cheek
from getting just too close to a dog
and scars on my arms
from staying just too close to the edge
and playing mind games with myself
the kind in which neither of us
came out victorious
i like mozart and debussy
when i'm working
and gershwin and joplin
when i want to have fun
i write on the spot, spur of the moment and
my words don't seem to
fit on the paper in a way that pleases most
but i assure you, they speak volumes
in the middle of the night
when i lay in bed, pen in hand
anger in mind, worry in chest
i am in love with a boy who lives
far away though it seems
every night when we talk
he's right next to me
wrapping his arms around me,
binding us together and
keeping promises
and holding on to the
agreement we made
at twelve a.m.
i can sing and play instruments
and tell you anything you want to
know about the surrounding universe
or the Liverpudlian lads who
started a musical revolution
and taught me that
all you really did need was love
i read every day
from books that have been sitting on my shelves
every day for the past five years,
some even longer
when i sleep i snore
though i've heard that
it sounds like a cat
purring while being pet on the head
but i think that the most interesting
fact about me
is something that
has not come about just yet

i'm sorry
you don't like my
haphazard style or
choice of words
oh, no, don't misunderstand
i will never apologize
for
them, nor stop what i do; my english teacher
once told me the most beautiful
words are written when
all hope is lost, all happiness
d
r
  a
    i
     n
       e
          d
or when there is so much
love and
passion in your heart that
you can't hold it in and the
need to share your innermost feelings
is bursting at the seams,
banging at the walls of your
conscience
this is my art
though, more truthfully told,
it is my release
a better one than the last, by far
and though the feeling is similar
writing these poems won't
leave scars on my body
despair in my soul
or want of a better existence
i feel whole again

last night i lay in bed
in that calm post-sob
my eyelids swelled and red
weighed down by thoughts of
disappointment
i thought i could be strong
my eyes red, veins visible
like mapping out a red river
on a starch white globe
you called me and let me fall asleep to
the silence
like we usually do
except it left a more bitter taste in my mouth
this morning, more silence
or rather, less of you
i don't want you to walk away
from something like this
i don't want to abandon this
what we've worked so hard to get
and though my tired eyes won't open
they still see the pain harbored
in my heart
because i cannot bring you
the happiness you deserve
and if you want me to
i will bleed it out
and give all of it to you
all you have to do is say the word

i hope you are happy now that
you are gone and i must be happy too
can one still be happy after
being beaten to a breaking point?

you left and i lifted
myself off the ground
remember when you said you'd be there for me?
as if anyone could find solace in
that underdeveloped plastic heart
set on auto-pilot; a trap
you used to bribe me into
years of self-destruction
as if i could find friendship in
your green jealous eyes or that finger
with which you ever so diligently
shot at me
along with the words and accusations
i never needed you

i never needed you
or your messed up views
of what i owed you
for being my friend
i never needed you
or your ready backhand
or the Stockholm syndrome
broken soul or beaten self-worth
or the ******* thoughts that went through
my head on a daily basis
and as if i wanted you back
NO
go.
leave me alone
like you left me to sob
on your concrete steps
so many times before
like you left me alone in
my times of need
as i held those pills in a shaking
hand and led them to a shaking
stomach
no.
just leave.
i owe you what you gave me
nothing.
you gave me nothing
yet you whittled away my happiness
for years
until nothing was left but
a shelled out form
that you set aflame
to make sure i could never come back
but i rose from the ashes and you
you
you will never destroy me again.

in you i could drown, my darling
sweetly, quickly, quietly
all at once and all you'd have to do
is look at me
in that way
that only you can do
for you i have fallen, my darling
in and out and over again
by the slightest touch of your fingertips
or the sighing laugh you give
or the smile you smile that
weakens all of my joints
all at once
your words, to you, my darling
seem like graphite scratched onto
the blue-lined papers of a journal
too wrong, too wrong you are, my darling;
they are ink
etched into my heart
never to be forgotten
always resonating, shining
on those dark, late nights when
my soda goes flat-forgotten and
my face is painted with fragile tear-strands
and my soul is wrung dry
your words, my darling,
they replenish my very existence
your smile, your laugh, my darling,
turns my heart into a metronome set
to the quickest tempo
the way you look at me, my darling
the way you love me
in you i could drown.

the storm outside is a reminder
of the passion shared
between us
the thundering roars emitted
in the night
and the electricity i felt through
your trembling fingertips
the rain against my window
beats not nearly as hard
as my heart did that night.
and the afterglow
oh, that feeling of beauty
with which
a rainbow could not even compete

as it rains i am reminded
of the comfort i felt in the fall
sweeping leaves off the porch
my mind was at ease and the clouds
wrapped around the sun
like my pullover sweater
the trees lost their verdure
but not their beauty
i am ready for what lies ahead

bitten nails, broken skin
i speak volumes through a pen
the unkempt look of a tired teen
emotionally broken writing queen

i write melodies for the youth
the ones who know the ugly truth
and after all is said and done
i speak for the ones who stand alone

i write for the ones who stay in their rooms
who have inner horror of the imminent doom
of facing the decision to live or to die
i speak for the ones who silently cry

i write for the broken primadonnas
who realize all they really wanted
was a beautiful body (thin as a stick)
i write for the sweethearts, lovely, dysmorphic

i write melodies for the hated
the ignored, defeated, self-harming, tormented
the unloved darlings of this generation
oppressed by society’s views of perfection
the unwanted lovechild of sadness and hate
we feel in our hearts that we all are mistakes
i write for every last tired young soul
for i write as i speak
and i speak what i know.

The taste of alcohol burns me through and through
enters like fire that resonates out of my pores and into my mind
as I think of you and wonder why I’m not good enough
or why I’ll never be as good as him
on a cold evening such as this
where the waves can bring out the sadness
that seeps into your soul
I’d be just as warm as the words you share with him
maybe I am old news
maybe I am worn through
maybe I’m not for you
maybe I’m an alien and that’s why you say “I can’t speak aloud”
or maybe this is just ramblings induced by drops of Bacardi
but I always thought I was worth it
and I thought five years of patience would bring out the best in this
but maybe it was always the alcohol.

i look at a reflection

i do not recognize

who are you?

i won’t accept that

thing

as me

i won’t stop until

i am a sliver of what i once was

i am cut into slices like cake

served to

hunger

and control

blasphemous as it seems

i am caught between

who i want to be

and who i need to be

and i can’t tell the difference

i don’t feel the ridges and peaks

and plateaus

i once felt

all that is left are rolling hills

i don’t hear the

delicious pain of

emptiness

i hear the growing want of more more more

i can’t stop until

i feel the peak and

hear the empty hunger

i can’t stop until i am

what i need to be

i can’t stop until

i am a  sliver

and i can’t stop

until i know

who lives

in my

mirror

of all the galaxies in this vast universe
i am glad to know his

his words are auroras
eluminating my thoughts
and when he breathes out i love yous
yeses, please, or my name
it is my zodiacal light
what lulls me to sleep at night
and wakes me in the morning

i know his umbra and his penumbra
his ins and his outs
his sweet-talk, sunspots
his full-moon eyes,
though brazen with faculae
are all i wish to
look into
every moment
of my life

i know the valles of his body
the crevices running through his chest
his heart a flare
his kiss a bolide

our love is cosmic

a poet is a silent screamer
silent feeler, silent doer
thinking, tinking, toying brains
reveals life through an expulsion
of ink on paper
with a mind whose thoughts
trickle down like racing raindrops on a car window
a painter of words on a heart-canvas
dreamer of the unreachable
unrequitable
unforgotten.

pigtails, tutus, ballet flats
diet at age of six
running, skipping, jumping jacks
did she know what beauty meant?

long brown hair, pretty eyes
gym class, age of ten
stretching, push-ups, two more laps
would she learn what beauty meant?

a boy, a kiss, a little more
life at young 15
sweet talk, smiles, and lots of force
of course she knew what beauty meant

silence, hate, weakness, lies
only sweet 16
binging, purging, swears and cuts
she'd never get what beauty meant.

night comes and you sleep
as i enjoy the sound of
your sweet, drawn out breath.

Who are you
that speaks so sweetly
that looks so nice
I think
you could be
divine perfection

On a bench in a park I sat alone
to watch the sun go down
and as I watched
the girl with the braided hair
sat next to me
I taught her about life
she lived where shadows roamed free
in a house on a field
with harboured secrets
silently, assuredly,
she mouths out to me
touching my hand
living the life I left behind
the girl with the braided hair
talked with me
I distract her from life
she pranced around in white mary-janes
in a blue gingham dress
with too-mature worry
sweetly, cautiously
she laughs with me
brushing my hair
living a life she wished to live
the girl with the braided hair
watched the sunset with me
creating her own life
where no shadows dared to roam
in a castle by the sea
with fairies, and light
sadly, wishfully,
she rests her head on me
dreaming her life away and I realise
the girl with the braided hair
is me

click-clack
graphite stains my hand
uneven lines caress paper
words flow from my mind to my fingers
click-clack
graphite inches out
metallic grey, both dull and exciting
strong lines fade to thinned out smudges
click-clack

little weeping willow tree
won't you ever smile?
fill your flowing limbs and leaves
with life so jovial
your salicaceous whisper
so melancholy, low
fills my mind with images
forgotten long ago
with curtain-style branches
you block out all my doubts
in your shelter, by your tree trunk
i wait my worries out

it is raining now
drops splatter against the glass
and soothe my tired brain

she was the definition of not quite there
yet there all the same
she wore frills and colors when her mind was set
on success
she was unconventional beauty
effortlessly wandering
through his brainwaves and
to his heartstrings
she kissed and told
him she loved him
they filled eachother with promises kept
forever and never did they
harbour a secret in their hearts
which were torn each in a unique way
and each readily sought to mend the other
she shook when she was nervous
yet tremors hadnt bothered her
like so many times before
before he was there
before she felt his arms around her
before her heart skipped a beat
when she felt his soul touch hers
light eminated
life luminated

she gave herself to him
mind and body
readiness and wonder
limited exploration
with all greedy eyes and hands and lips

touch proved fatal to the innocence
a stare held more than three thousand words
spoken with fluidity
or meaning ever could
a stare into eyes like stars
like amethyst
like rainfall
a stare that stroked the heart
that stormed the brain

they who walked on planets hand in hand
never blinded by opression
or ignorance
arrogance or falsehood
but by love and love alone

he who would give her infinity
and she who would embrace it

clarity can be found in the most tenebrous abyss

Talk talk
Talk is loud
Meaningless and mindless
Trapped in my eyes
Are words unsaid
Free my mind of this
Unending stream of chatter
Chitter
Talk
Talk has no boundaries
Fiery, explosive
Locked in my lips is a song unheard
Wipe my slate clean of this
Dabble
Droning
Talk
Talk is emotion
Love and joy
Free at my fingertips are sweet whispered nothings
Love me and all of my
Talk

the doll of porcelain
frail and fragile whose
sweet china skin can break
at the slightest touch
supports with ease the
troubles of the burdened
yet the harsh embrace of
ignorance cracks her
into a million pieces

Happily she flounces
and bounces
on the ground in
her lemongrass-hued
dress of whatnots

Way back when
The worries of the world
Were nonexistent
She ruled the forests
The toadstool wonders

She never thinks
of sadness or misery as
she performs her silhouetted
pirouette
for the birds

And as she flies
Above the trees she thinks
to herself
It will be like this
forever

I think I saw the moon tonight
Ivory, aglow
Alive and bright, reflecting light
Shone through my open window

I think I felt the moon tonight
With my fingertips just so
I brushed against her dusty cheek
And whispered a meek “Hello”

I think I heard the moon tonight
Voice lighter than a feather
She shared the folklore of the faeries
Who danced amongst the heather

I traveled with the moon tonight
From Berkley to Milan
She showed me the most gorgeous sights
Beyond imagination

I danced around the moon tonight
To melodies of yore
I felt so happy and carefree
I hadn’t heretofore.

I slept upon the moon tonight
She lulled me to a sopor
She lay me back in my warm bed
And tucked me in the covers.

What a wonderful thing
It was to taste you
A mixture of sweet savory
And sensual
I cherished the feral
Passion and feverishness
As we stayed entwined
Your touch-a spark
And I breathed embers for you

Spoken soft through a whispering willow
The tear-stained leaves
Trickle and tickle the ground
The sadness as curtains
Hiding a haven of which
She gladly and greedily takes advantage
She sits and rests
Falls victim to the succubus
The bound pages
With ink strewn about them
The willow hid the wonders

I often sit to
think about
the complicated
overrated
issues of the day
but to see your smile
and hear your voice
it brightens my dark day

rain beats its drum on my roof
the surrounding sound is pleasant
like the foreshadowing of good things to come
lulls me to a dreamland
a bleak perfection
cool and comforting
metallic waves break the tranquility
a stampede of hovering hooves.
erratic light cracks the darkness
it has become routine
the sky calms
a colored arc caresses the horizon.
all is well.

take a rest
lay down and
feel the glow of
my body upon
your body
it is like nothing I've felt
before
and
your breath
warring my breath
and
your smile
mirrors
mine
i don't think you know quite
the joy of
the glow of
my body
upon
yours.

And so
went the rose
with her lively red and
gleaming blossoms
and i, the iris
softspoken and hushed
by her loud appeal
And so
she paced as I
watched her beauty
and grace as I
smelled her sweet perfume
And
so
she thought she wasn't
gorgeous
but i was the one
who was gorgeous
what is gorgeous
but a word for the
masses
and so
say i to the rose
do you feel the same next to
me as you do
the other roses
how can i
she says
out there i am
not in the presence of
such beauty

relapse is imps who
never cease to ****
at your body with
hateful pitchforks
and recovery is hard but you
can do it but no
you really can't
but you absolutely
need to
don't you
but why do you
need such a push
maybe you don't need to
and i'm sorry if i'm
foolish and
i'm sorry if i'm
insufferable and
impotent and
many words with im and in
but clouds have covered me
veils have captured me
a puddle i've stepped in before
my perception was muddled like
that little puddle and
now i see much more