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 Aug 2018 leyla
b
it is mid july
and hotter than sin.
some friends and i
drove to the beach
to watch the shore
erode.

i drank some gin
and we talked about
television. i laughed
like i would die
tomorrow.

when we left
and my feet were
******
i couldnt help but
remind myself
that i was happy.

and on the drive home
two friends kiss
in the back like
you do when you
think you have it
figured out
and all you want
is the whole world
and its staring back
at you and even smiles
if you kiss it on
the mouth.

and all i could
think about is the boy
i was mean to as
a child and how
he died before i
could ever say
sorry and really
mean it.

i cant help but
twist a knife
if i see one.
you can’t use the public restroom  
without smelling someone else’s ****,
counting smeared boogers on the wall
and reading poetry written by little boys
who will one day run the country.
 Aug 2018 leyla
Boi
Roses want blood,
delicacy, and
grace.

Flowers want life,
Love, and
care.

Doomed are those
who treat their roses
as if flowers
bleeding
until drought

Long live those
who treat their flowers
as if roses
giving
until downpour
know your botany
 Nov 2017 leyla
Longing Eternally
This is the poem I never gave you, I always promised I'd write you one but you left before I could. I could write about the way your freckles dotted upon your cheeks and nose were as numerous as the constellations, or how your wavy black hair was as captivating as the darkness of the black night sky. However, you are unlike the constellations, you are like the ocean, vast and deep but so close to us, yet vastly unexplored. Did you know we have explored more of the moon than we have of our own ocean? You resemble the ocean in that way, everyone always looks to the stars and revels in their beauty but overlook our very own deepness. You are like the ocean, you slipped through my hands like the ever-changing tide softly rocking against the beach. To bathe in your calming waters once again would quench my love for water for eternity.
I love you lil sis, doubt you'll ever read this.
 Oct 2017 leyla
Longing Eternally
teardrops on a bedroom pillow
blood drops into the bathroom sink
my heart drops into my stomach
my voice drops to a monotone whisper
my body drops to the floor
my mother drops me off at the hospital
morticians drop my body into the casket
the priest drops the casket into the earth
the worms drop into my hollow chest
 Sep 2017 leyla
Remmy
you asked me to draw my past
i drew in red lines and harsh corners with no boundries
red lines because my body is covered in them
harsh corners because the turns my life took often make my neck snap
no boundries because i knew no wrong felt no remorse saw nothing as off limits
you asked me to draw my present
i left the paper blank
i feel nothing
i am nothing
whatever people say to me to help me recover is who i become
i am like a mirror or a blank slate reflecting what the artist wants to see
you ask me to draw my future
i draw triangles and rectangles
because the turns are still sharp but more expected
and i am fitting into society but i'm not a box
art therapy is sometimes fun but it gets so deep
 Sep 2017 leyla
yellah girl
the circus train comes to town once a year,
carrying Russian ballerinas & corporate America dropouts.
she brings an irresistible bouquet of
caramel apples & greasepaint, of
cotton candy & mechanical smoke.
the circus is a seductive beast, she'll grab your heart
between her teeth & she won't let go, like a
rabid dog.

when the show begins on opening night,
you'll be sure to grab a front row seat, right in the
Grand Stand, among the soccer moms & their sticky-faced toddlers.
you'll feel the childish delight bubble
in your chest when the music swells, when the elephants march
& the clowns tumble out in garish colors.

after the show, you'll stumble to the three rings with the
toddlers & their tired moms, right to the center ring, don't be
shy when the clown dressed in yellow & black,
like a bumblebee, comes towards you, a devilish grin on
his painted coal black lips.
your knees will tremble, you'll turn as red as his big nose, when he pulls your back to his solid chest, & he begins to juggle right in front of you.

"stick around, after closing" he murmurs in your ear, "that's when the real circus begins."

the circus is painted bright, a swirling mass of
red & blue, with sparks of yellow, ribbons of pink.
even when the show is over, the mystery is still
there, the sweet seduction lingers, like an old lover's fingers can trace circles on your skin in the dead of night.

when the bumblebee clown drags you around town that night,
as if he lives there & not you, you'll go along with him,
your heart racing fast, as fast as the girl dressed in
pink spandex flew from the cannon across the circus ceiling,
how could you have forgotten that?

he'll take you to McDonald's, ask you to pay for the meal, he's broke until Thursday at 2. of course. you split a small
fry and a chocolate shake, by then it's midnight,
he performs some simple magic tricks, balancing a
chair on the edge of his chin, snagging a shining quarter
from your brunette curls, watch out, girl, he's reeling you in,
he's as seductive as the circus.

he will walk you back to your college dorm &
he's sure to mention how it's been years since he has
been inside a dormitory, since clown college, yes it's real.
your roommate is gone & you're not ready to say goodbye
just yet, so you'll sign him in & guide him to your third floor
room.

he marvels at your textbooks & cuddles your teddy bear
brought from home, while you drink him in, solid, squat,
a true Texican, his skin is brown as caramel, & you wander
if he will taste just as sweet. he'll notice your blush, & pull
you close, pinch your hips, nuzzle your neck & kiss you hard,
maybe a bit too hard.

he lays you on your back, & you're naked, you're scared,
vulnerable, you watch him dip his head & kiss you, nibble you in that sweet, sweet forbidden spot. there's a black coal
in your chest, in the pit of your stomach, you're disgusted,
you're curious, you taste the circus firsthand, gagging.

the circus will remain in town for
an entire week, & for an entire week you have a
circus clown as a boyfriend.
you take him on adventures around your college campus,
to your favorite burger spot, to the big water balloon fight
& he'll show you the circus world, you'll hug
an elephant, you'll drink your first beer in Clown Alley,
& you'll watch the show a dozen times.

he'll write you a love letter on your skin, caramel drips on
China porcelain, he'll leave bruises in the shapes of hearts,
& you'll cry when he leaves, it's only been a week, but
it's been a lifetime. he'll hold you tight, too tight, and he'll whisper,

"it's only a year, i'll see you in a year."

when the circus train leaves, the asphalt lot will be
conspicuously empty, except for a trampled clown nose,
much like your aching heart. you'll feel numb & blue,
you'll cling to your phone, the clown promised you
he would call.
you fall asleep cradling your phone to your chest, startle awake when he finally calls you, it's 4 in the morning, you have an early class, but that can wait, his voice is on the other line.

you'll lose a lot more than sleep when you fall in love
with a circus clown, you have to conform to his schedule,
you see, he is the one calling the shots, not you, not we.
you'll start to slip up in your classes, all you do is stare at your phone screen, who cares about supply vs. demand, anyway?

you hitch a ride to see the clown half a year later, you could
hardly stand him being an hour away, & you'll fly into his arms
like a trapeze artist, after the show, he'll carry you like a bride
to his coffin
bed & you're naked again, scared, vulnerable, he's all the way
he's grunting and sweating, and you're cowering, numb.

you leave 15 minutes later, with shaky thighs, you're slightly
nauseated, you try to kiss him goodbye, but he pushes you away,
he's got eyes on the concession stand girl, the one with
raven black hair and a Marilyn Monroe piercing. your heart drops as you get into the car, your friend begs you to talk, but you can't,
you're confused, you're scared, you won't see the clown
for some time to come.

you try to focus on your schoolwork, but your As slip to Ds, you
try to go out with your friends, but they want to talk about
the cute guy in psychology, not about a circus clown miles away.
you forgot to do laundry, all you do is lay in bed, your dorm is
smelling moldy, your roommate starts to stay away. you're
falling, sinking into a blue sea, deep, dark, endless.

when you fall in love with a circus clown, you must know
you're just another Rube from another city, nothing special,
you see, he's got girlfriends in Florida and Las Vegas, that
concession stand girl, too, you're nothing special, girl,
not even close. you gave it all up, your love & your
bleeding heart, to a circus clown, you foolish girl, don't
you know, he'll just play you as hard as he plays in the
circus ring?
A fictitious retelling of the very non-fictitious years I spent in love with a real-life circus clown. It's been three years since my heart was broken, and I finally feel like I can tell my tale.
 Sep 2017 leyla
lionness
to mom
 Sep 2017 leyla
lionness
you,
mother,
the one who
removed me
forcedly
from my
body, my
only home

you,
mother,
the one who kept
me in your pocket,
too small to
scream, too
small to
remember clearly

you,
mother,
the one who
stole my
voice away,
held it in your
clammy palms,
kept it as a
keepsake memory
of your
little girl,
next to good
report cards and
photo albums.

is this
what you thought
love was?

passing down
scar tissue
as if it were
a treasured
family
heirloom?

creating childhood
with your left hand,
to steal it away
with your right?

you,
mother,
the wound
that birthed
every wound
thereafter,
i will leave you
with this,
only this.

i survived
you

i survived all
that you created
and destroyed.

i can now
survive
anything.

— The End —