i still know your phone number by heart.
it is burned into my brain.
i could never forget you.
i miss you.
my chest aches for you;
thinking of you brings such sadness.
do you still think about me?

i really miss you right now.
i want to see you again.
i want to talk with you again.
i want to be friends again.
i miss you.
i promised myself
I would never talk to you again.
I can't break that promise. I miss you.

no one takes you seriously anymore.
you're just a college student.
you are still young.
you are still learning.
you have not been fully brainwashed,
yet.

you have to get a good job!
you have to make enough money!
you don't want to be starving, do you?
then go to college.

go to college
cause that will fix all your problems.
one piece of paper and
200,000 dollars of debt later.
welcome to college.

welcome to college!
where you'll try hard to get good grades
and be up all night.
you will never know a good night's rest
for the next 4 years.

more anxiety than high school.
more work than high school.
more people than high school.
more ******* than high school.

liberal arts education is supposed to be great!
but what if you hate science and math
and you just want to write?
I hate my classes.

I hate analyzing books.
I hate analyzing movies.
I hate writing essays.
I hate talking.

I have a C+ in one class
because I never talk.
I hate talking.
I hate talking.

when I get my degree will it be different?
will I be different?
will my life change forever?
will I finally be the member of society
that society wants me to be?

They say that offspring resembles the breeders
both physically and mentally
but when I  speak their faces darken
and when they speak I get upset.

I resemble them physically
but you can not tell that I am their daughter
if you look at us mentally.
Every conversation is a battle.

My father is the textbook conservative.
Pro-life and pro-guns
Anti-gay and microagressive.
How am I his daughter?

My mother is a follower.
A doe to her deer.
A foe in my fears.
How am I her daughter?

Standing 5 foot 8 in a pair of slacks
instead of a dress there's me.
The feminist.
The human rights activist.

My father calls me a communist.
My mother thinks I'm crazy.
I'm not a communist but a libertarian.
Funny how that's confused.

I march on in my combat boots.
My mother disapproving.
My father asking me if I just came back
from a Pearl Jam concert.

I march on with my feminist ways.
Spreading the word of equality as often as I can.
Telling the micro-aggressors to stop.
Questioning the Christians and the anti-gays.

I march on with my sense of style.
I don't care if I don't look feminine today.
I don't feel feminine today.
My mother's shaming me in the distance.

I march on with my tattoos and choppy hair.
My mother crying and my father angry.
They are anti-tattoo and anti-individualistic.
I don't deserve their shame.

I march on with who I am.
Because although I am their offspring
they can not change who I am.
No matter how hard they try.

some things just spark.
like the way a person's smile can ignite
and burn into the images of your brain.
or the way a person's laugh
can catch the whole room on fire.
or their mannerisms dousing you
in a gallon of gasoline.
and then when they say hello
the match drops onto you
and you burst into flame.

my window remains open all spring.
the cool breeze blows in
the smell of freshly cut grass
and the flowers that spring brings.
a smile stretches across my cheeks
every time i hear a bird sing.