Taylor

Sep 2014

Aquinas

Jealousy

"Do
You beg
For his body
Against yours like his
Is pressed upon mine every
Day into the night, dirtily polite?"

No, but I stop and think
About the chances I had
With him all alone
That I've wasted
Dreaming of
Him

I think I'm going mad

#love #heartbreak #sad #boy #you #jealousy

Taylor Sep 2014

letters to some of those who have shaped me

i.**
I don't know if I actually liked you or not because I forced emotions onto you during a time that I was trying to figure my own heart out. I'm sorry for that, but you were always a ****** person. I should've listened to them, cause if I would ever love any boy it never would've been you.

ii.
You were the chocolate chunks in mint ice cream and the stars in the sky. You were sweet and spicy and you were unforgettable. I didn't love you, but ******* you were beautiful. I'm not sure if your hair or heart burned brighter. Maybe it was me once you threw me in the fire.

iii.
It's because of you that I feel no shame in who I kiss or **** or love or write for, even if you used to be the cause of my guilt after we broke up. You made brown eyes my favorite. You taught me that I need to carry my own weight, and you taught me how to love. You will always have my heart. It'll always be you I write poems for on the back of napkins and the middle of chemistry notes, no matter how much trust you make me lose in you. I love you still.

iv.
You made me hate anyone with a name beginning with the letter A. I still think about how you and you friends wished I would've swallowed pills in handfuls. You made me fall apart the day I figured out that you ****** her, and the day you were able to tell me you stole her. You'll be the first to know if I live to 28.

v.
I will forever regret how I used you. You're lovely. You really, really are. Maybe I should've listened to you and not gone back to her, but I might not be where I am now if I hadn't. I wish we could still speak.

vi.
I still admire you. You made me write some of the sweetest, shortest poems. You'll never know they were for you.

vii.
I'm sorry, but not really. I would never love you or ******* and you knew that.

viii.
You're someone I'll always be confused about. I think I might've loved you, but I'm not sure how much of my feelings were genuine. I faked a lot with you. Things like ******* and laughter and feelings didn't come too easy. I'll never forget how you thought you were the one who won the breakup, though.

ix.
I would've ****** you until you said you'd choke me 'til I turned blue. That and the fact that you thought you owned me, and I wasn't about to be in a relationship like that again.

x.
God, what do I say about you? You were one in a million and I never found any boys attractive til I found you. I look for you in everyone now, since you're not much of a risk taker and didn't wanna risk any legal trouble. 3 years is still within my states limit, by the way.

xi.
I wish you would've listened. I wish I didn't get drunk with you. I wish I had the strength to move your hands off of me. The signs all point to sociopath, but I'm not quite sure how to cut you out.

xii.
I love you. You fell from distant stars that I couldn't even name and you decided to fall into the world that I know and become someone I will always remember. You're one of the best friends I ever had. Not only would I let you handcuff me to your headboard, I'm already always at your feet and would destroy the world to let you find your home again.

xiii.
I am so ******* sorry. I understand if you now hate everyone with my name because of me. I never thought I could do something like that. I was too far gone and I wasn't there. It's no excuse. You forgave me but I can still sense your ache when you look at me.

xiv.
You were sober.
I wasn't.
It would've been good under different circumstances.

(t.w.)

excluding the adults, for some reason. maybe that one will come in the future.

#letters

Taylor Aug 2014

an almost boy

I Started To Fall For You At The Same Speed She Almost Jumped From
Or,
Couldn't You Have Said Something Sooner?
Or,
The Story of An Almost

Midnight exhales, meet 1 am clavicles.
2 am blushing, meet 3 am commands.
4 am cautiousness, meet 5 am lust.
6 am, meet the one you love.
I felt comfortable with you;
There was instant trust.
I wanted your creased cheeks and bleary eyes at every hour of the late night.
I would dream about my fingertips tracing your sides in the early morning light.
I've been missing the way I could only see half of your face once the drowsiness set in, the way you lifted your chin and smiled at me.
Your eyelids never crinkled evenly.
The first night we talked, you called me cute and told me that if I wasn't going to say the flirty things, you would.
You made me nervous. People don't make me nervous.
I don't get butterflies. I don't get pink cheeks. I get sickly moths and bats flapping around inside me. I go pale from head to toe.
You brought back raw emotion like sugar. It was too much all at once; it made both of us a little sick. Neither of us were used to it.
Your mind decided to change tracks and left me behind at the station. I've still been sitting at the help desk waiting for your return.
You're not the type I go for. You're much too cautious and gentle, generic and accessible.
That's gotta mean something. I usually go for the girls who stain their cigarettes with Ruby Woo or Sin lipstick; into none of those categories do you fit. I go for girls who live halfway across the world and would rather swim in tar than fall for me again. I chase after those who'd never want me. I do it so no one gets hurt. I once burned a girl so badly she wished she could fall from red steel at 70 miles per hour just to hit the water to escape my flames.
You're nothing like anyone I've ever loved. Why is it you had to pull me in so close, thaw me so much?
My soul is of the winter; if I'm not a raging fire, I freeze at anyone's touch.
I just wish you would've realized you made me feel so much, thaw so much, ache so much.
I wish you would've realized that no matter how much you hated poetry, the honey words still spilled from your lips.
You were one of my favorite poets.
From hipbones to little sighs, stinging skin and inner thighs; you told me stories of moonlight on shoulder blades and the dream morning of a nymphomaniac.
Maybe it was a dangerous mix of lust and a little too much trust, but I miss the way you made me feel a little loved

Taylor Apr 2014

Untitled

Mother. 
I’m so glad you never spoke about “people like me” when I was little. When I was a little girl, your little girl, I was quiet.  Just like I was supposed to be.  When I spoke up, it was a shock, yet I was still told to keep my mouth shut.
I wasn’t allowed to play with the things that were for boys, I wasn’t allowed to play with the boys. I wasn’t allowed to think or be like the boys, and there was somewhere in me that knew  I wasn’t supposed to like girls the way the boys did either.
I also knew I wasn’t supposed to fight fire with fire.  I was told not to, and when it wasn’t spoken in words it was said with a simple side glance, raise of the eyebrow, and purse of the lips. Instead of throwing back the flames that blistered my own skin, I was supposed to smile and swallow every flame they threw at me.  It might not leave me with a voice or heart to speak, but at least I would be a calm, pretty girl.  Just like you wanted me to be.
When I didn’t want to try to be pretty and perfect anymore, I was shut down. Down like my own finger constantly and unsuccessfully in my throat,  down like the way I broke because to dad I wasn’t good enough just like the girls and boys at my school that knew as much as I did that I wasn’t quite like all of them,  down like the comforters I’d wrap myself in at night so no one would hear me scream about how much I hated myself,  down like the spirals I fell into where I could hardly get out of bed and you blamed it on me,  down like the command given to a dog, something I’ve always found myself treated like because there’s a bull’s-eye on my back telling them I am their target to aim perfectly sharpened lines at,  and when they didn’t work even sharper insults.  But I could never bark back.  I’ve been mute since I was born.  No one wanted a pup that got too vocal.  I kicked myself time after time all because everyone else had.
I was supposed to be pretty, I was supposed to be a quiet girl. I was told I should look and dress more like a doll, more like Barbie.  I was told I should talk about half as much and often and she is even capable of.  No girl has a voice that she dare uses if it isn’t being used to please others.  I have spent my entire life pleasing others, so what else was I supposed to do when I was no longer “skinny mini” and was told I needed to stop gaining so much weight other than work out until I passed out and eat nothing more than a few crackers a day?  I just wanted you to be happy.
Maybe if you spoke more about people like me when I was impressionable like the clay I used to play with I wouldn’t be here.  Maybe you telling me who I could and couldn’t be was your subtle ways of speaking of people like me. Maybe you knew all along that I couldn’t be your perfect daughter and you just wanted to lie to yourself and pretend I could be.  Maybe you still know I won’t and cannot be. Maybe if I never listened to you when you started, I would be happy on my own. Maybe if I listened to you now, I’d feel more at home in clouds of smoke in lonely night skies, because on the off chance that you know who I’ve always been you don’t care about the slivers of glass I find in my skin from the stars you shot down when talking about how “what” I am is a sin.
And father, *******.
I won’t ever be able to look at the sky the same way without thinking of you and the way you held me up on your shoulders and made up stupid constellations that will never exist.  I only believe in what can be proven.  I can prove that I was never good enough for you.  My grades were too low, my voice too quiet, my tongue too sharp, I took up too much space that was supposed to belong to you. I’m sorry for existing on your property.  I did not let you push me around the way you did to my mother. I gave you chances in ways a daughter shouldn’t have to give a father. You treated me in ways a father should never treat a daughter.

— The End —