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gabrielle boltz Jun 2015
i am only graceful
when it is required of me

and i think thats the problem.
gabrielle boltz Mar 2015
i sat
drawing swirls
in condensation on the window

a younger me did the same thing once
and got yelled at
because
apparently the marks you
make on windows
don't go away

then someone has
to wash those panes,
and

heaven forbid
their windex leaves streaks

heaven forbid
their towel
sheds

heaven forbid
that clear glass
is marred

and

heaven forbid
someone put
swirls on the world
so something, anything
was a little

more

beautiful.
if the ****
swirls were permanent,
it would
all just
be
fine.
gabrielle boltz Mar 2015
you say you're all for change.
     equality
          diversity -
i can question all i want,
     but you'll just repeat it back to me.

you say we're all the same.
     all on a level
          playing field -
the statistics say you're wrong,
     and yet you try to tell me that's not real.

you say it's not our fault;
     it's been "so long"
          since slavery -
and you look at me with mocking eyes,
     while i search for your humility.

and us women won the right to vote
     less than a hundred years ago,
          but you tell me i'm ludicrous
               when i say

                         i wish we would earn as much as men -

               you say "that's the way it's always been"
          and i'm "wasting" my time worrying -
     you say "we'll get married, we'll be fine,"
"we'll be home with our children anyway."

and i shouldn't ask them
     what they earn,
          
               cause then i might know to ask for more

     so i'll sit here wondering in my head
whether you've considered that before.

you say you're all for change.
     equality
          diversity -
those buzz-terms won't mean anything,
     until you practice what you preach.

you say we're all the same.
     all on a level
          playing field -
but colorblindness doesn't solve
     the problems that we're facing here -

you say it's not your fault;
     it's been "so long"
          since slavery -
but you don't seem to understand,
     that no one wants your sympathy.

i know you're not listening anymore -

     that's fine.
          i've gotten used to it -
     but there's some things you need to know
before i let you walk away from this.

"i'm not racist" will never change the
     meaning of what you just said,

          and

your "jokes" will never make me laugh,

          until you build us up,
               not hold us back.
((intended as spoken word...))
gabrielle boltz Feb 2015
something
in the way you say
"i love you"

sounds wrong.
off.
unintelligibly dishonest
     in a way that
          i can neither
               prove,
                    nor disprove.

you bring me flowers,
     kiss my forehead

but white roses
     are forgiveness -
          or at least thats
               what nana said -
and your lips
     are a desert
          when i always
               preferred the beach -
                    but you know that.

subconsciously
     i'm searching, begging, yearning for something,
          anything; obvious evidence
               that this is

         all
         in
         my
         head.

because it could be.

i could be as crazy as i feel.

                          but i have no such evidence,
                                and

     something
     in the way you say
     "i love you"

     sounds wrong.
     off.
     unintelligibly dishonest
          in a way that
               i can neither
                    accept,
                         nor deny.

but i have to
because otherwise

          there is nothing left.
and if there is nothing left,
i was wrong.
gabrielle boltz Feb 2015
i thought that if i
squeezed my eyes shut tight enough,
the tears would collect
in the back of my throat and i could
swallow them -
wouldn't have to face
their hot,
wet,
attitude.

i thought that if i
left uncovered
a soft, pale collarbone,
the searching for thoughts beneath
that satin skin would
quickly fall away.

i thought that if i
tied down the fist
knocking, knocking, knocking
from the inside of my chest
i could keep it quiet

          keep them all quiet

          but the knocking never stops

and the knocking
     fuels the thoughts
and the thoughts
     fuel the tears

and i
have lost
all control
gabrielle boltz Oct 2013
i have developed
a twitch.
neurotic tendencies.
obsessive,
compulsive
tendencies.

i brush my teeth,
my hair.
i pick,
leaving tiny,
almost unnoticeable
     speckle
                  spot
                                   scabs.

stupid that my
response
creates tangible
evidence of
       an invisible
                  experience -

            or maybe not -
maybe it's
appropriate,
maybe it's
     the point.

after all,
holding the smooth
hair
and sparkling
teeth
is a once loved
heart
scarred,
pocked,
and marred by defeat.
i am
wilting still
waiting still
for the
tremors
to end
gabrielle boltz Oct 2013
spreading shimmering
     blue on my fingertips -
appropriate,
     i think, curled on the floor.
convenient that the
     only color locked
          in the bathroom with me
                is blue

watching myself change colors,
     hair towel-wrapped and dripping,
i realize
     there are statistics for this.
          there are statistics for me.
girls who sit on the floor
     sopping polish on their
          fingers to keep from
               sobbing -
girls who
     can't let their

          pain

wake the neighbors.

anonymous surveys ask
     questions about girls like me -
          and i won't lie

i'll tell them
     the things they use
          to build statistics
               that put girls like me
          in boxes -

     separate.

between the last one
     and the next,
          someone reading somewhere
     will know, that
someone somewhere else
     once sat,
          spreading shimmering
                    blue
          on her fingertips,
     convincing herself
that when she
     unlocked the bathroom door,
               she wouldn't
          love him anymore.
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