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 Jun 2017 Qynn
sunprincess
I hope and pray every single elephant escapes
with their family, their ivory and their dignity
and each one of them live to see another day
and the poachers, well I hope they find a Job
One that treats them kind, and pays them well
So they will stop destroying beautiful creatures
 Jun 2017 Qynn
Jade M Matelski
she was like liquid fire
everything she touched would turn to ash
and she touched me, dear god
her hands were warm like summer
she smelled like cinnamon and
betrayal

it was a bright sunday afternoon
I had just bought flowers
for her to kiss
her breath was decaying them
the fire, burnt them into nothing but
a pile of red and purple ash;
a lot like my heart

her hair smelled like *** and
sweat; I lean in closer
but I was harmfully ignorant
and didn't see the signs
of my lover
slowly turning over
for another
 Jun 2017 Qynn
mikev
They say it's me
that makes you do things
you might not have done
if I was away
and that it's me
that likes to talk to you
and watches you
as you walk away

don't call me tomorrow
don't send me flowers
don't wish me all too well -
don't leave the sorrow
don't count the hours
just bask in your hell

They say it's me
that makes you do things
you might not have done
if I was away
and that it's me
that likes to talk to you
and watches you
as you walk away
 Mar 2014 Qynn
AJ
Battle Scars
 Mar 2014 Qynn
AJ
I. When I was 5, I thought recess was probably the best thing ever invented. Until the first autumn rainfall, when the sky opened up and unleashed it's sorrow unto the earth. The children were kept inside that day. As the storm thundered on around us, we ran to play on the other side of the classroom. The boys charged to the shelf with legos and blocks, while the girls lined up at the miniature kitchen. I followed them to the tiny toy oven, even though, secretly, I thought those lincoln logs looked really fun.

II. When I was 6, I thought my first grade teacher was the sweetest woman to ever have lived. Then, one day she lined us to to go outside, calling out, "Boys on one side, girls on the other" reminding of us of a divide between genders that we did not understand. Marking off differences on a checklist that none of us had read yet.

III. When I was 7, like most little girls I daydreamed of the perfect wedding. The part I played over and over in my head was my brother walking me down the aisle, "giving me away". Because even in the second grade, some part of me knew that I belonged to the men in my life.

IV. When I was 8, I learned that the praise I'd receive from the boys I called my brothers would always be conditional. No matter what award I received, how fast I ran, how tough I fought, how smart I was, I'd always be "pretty good for a girl". And that is never a compliment.

V. When I was 9, the YMCA told me I had to stop playing the sport I'd loved for 5 years because I was a girl. I took my first feminist stand by quitting, because I don't care what they say, softball and baseball are not the same thing.

VI. When I was 10, my brother informed me that the day I brought home a boyfriend was the day he bought a gun. Because that's how you protect your property.

VII. When I was 11, a boy ran up to me on the playground and told me I was cute. For a moment, I felt confident, a feeling that was foreign to me. Until the boy and his friend started laughing uncontrollably, as if they couldn't believe that I'd ever think that was true. I cried a lot that day because I hadn't yet realized that my self worth wasn't directly proportional to how many boys found me attractive.

VIII. When I was 12, my aunt gave me my first make up kit for my birthday. When my grandmother tried to force me to wear it, I refused, yelling, "It's my face!" She proceeded to tell me that I'd never get a boyfriend with that attitude. After all, who was I to want to be in control of my own body?

IX. When I was 13, I thought gym was a subject invented by sadistic hell fiends created just to torture teenage girls. It was the hottest day of the year, and I'd just ran a mile, so I opted not to change out of my tank top before continuing on to my next class. A teacher cornered me at my locker, advising me to put on a jacket before I became a distraction to the boys.

X. When I was 14, I confessed to my mother the wanderlust inside of me. Exclaiming about travelling to new places, having new experiences. That's when she looked me dead in the eye and told me to always take someone with me. Preferably, a man. I couldn't bring myself to be angry. We both knew what happened to women alone on the streets, and I felt bad for the way I made her eyes shine with worry each time I left the house without her.

XI. I am 15, and I walk with my fists clenched and my head down. I am always conscious of what clothes I wear and whether or not they could attract "the wrong kind of attention". I attempt to shield myself from the world, but I can feel my barriers cracking with each terrifying statistic, each late night news story, each girl that was never given justice. The world is a war zone, and every woman must put her armor on before walking outside. My life has been one battle after the next. I am a 15 year old war veteran, and have the scars to prove it. I've learned from my experiences and am left with just one question:

At what age does the war end?
 Mar 2014 Qynn
AJ
Marissa Ann was a firecracker of a little girl.
For her, there was no fence too tall to climb, no bully too mean to face, no street too busy to cross.
She was all tangled hair and toothy grins.
And she'd yank the book right out of my hands and say, "Gabrielle, we have more important things to do than read."

In the jungle of our lives, Marissa was a lioness, queen of the pride.
I was a mouse not indigenous to these parts of the second grade.
The world was a terrifying place, and I had no problem cowering in the corner, knee-deep in a pile of Nancy Drew.
I tried to stay huddled behind my words, drowning in the ink, attempting to let the pages be my armor.
Marissa would not let me.
When I allowed bookshelves to be my shields, she came guns blazing, and kicked them all down, then stood me back up on my feet.
She'd grab my hand and pull me head first toward adventure.

Marissa was tough, and everyone knew it.
There was not a soul alive brave enough to pick on Marissa Ann.
But me? I was an easy target.
The other girls said I was "weird" with my enormous wire frames resting atop full cheeks, and my frayed jeans, a glowing reminder of my mother's lack of wealth.
I heard the whispers on the playground about the chubby girl who read, (can you believe it?), chapter books.

Brianna was a demon of a child.
She'd bat her pretty little eyelashes and everyone would melt.
She had the entire second grade class wrapped around her tiny little finger.
She'd corner me on the soccer field and do everything she could to remind me that I was different.
But one day at recess, she was nowhere to be found, until I made my way through winding halls, back to the warmth of our classroom.

There sat Marissa with a devilish glint in her eye, waving me over to sit in the desk beside her.
Behind us, a sniffling Brianna, looking forlornly at the teardrop stains on her pink lace skirt, her mouth pulled tight into a perfect straight line.
I looked back at Marissa with a curious glance, then intertwined her hand with my own.
The sound of stifled sobs behind us and the warmth of her skin on mine sealing an unspoken vow between two girls with puzzle piece fingertips that only fit each other.
 Mar 2014 Qynn
sabrina
Untitled
 Mar 2014 Qynn
sabrina
do not look for me
I have run into a forest
I will not return
the air is better here
I can see
it is wonderful.
the trees are absolutely lovely
they talk to me about birds and grape vines
no torrent of energy or mind.
there are flowers in my feet
the song is not of the birds, but of the earth
don't call for me
this is my home.
 Mar 2014 Qynn
sabrina
today
 Mar 2014 Qynn
sabrina
you throw your fists in the air
angry at the world
at the death and the propaganda and the late night talk shows
you are a television
spiraling through the internet of money
you will find it
one day.
 Mar 2014 Qynn
AJ
Brother
 Mar 2014 Qynn
AJ
My brother,
Mama worked 14 hour days and we didn't have a Daddy
I was only a kid, but now I realize, so were you
And you shouldn't have had to become a father at sixteen, but you were just trying to fill up the empty spaces in our jumbled lives and too-big house
But life with you was anything but empty
There were so many things you could have done at that age, but you didn't because you were far too busy taking care of a little blonde girl who looked at you as though you were the moon and stars and she had never seen the night sky before
I remember sitting on your lap, one hand wrapped around my waist, the other holding a pen, as you tried to finish your homework, while still helping me with mine
And I remember the nights when Mama came home too exhausted to speak, and you tried to cook us dinner, even though all you knew how to make was discount frozen pizza

Brother,
You were always waiting for me with a joke or a smile
Never anything but gentle
But there were days when the world handed you hatred and pain until you couldn't help but to unleash the demons that were hiding right below the surface
You would lose your temper and shout at me, every second your voice was raised was another second of tears streaming down my face
And I know you felt guilty, but I forgive you
You were only a child

Brother,
Do you remember Saturday mornings on the living room floor?
We used to watch cartoons together, sprawled out on the rug, your eyes were glued to the screen, watching Batman and Superman and all the rest fly across the sky
I never paid any attention to them, my eyes stayed glued to you, because you were always my favorite superhero

Brother,
I remember when you would pick me up after I fell on the sidewalk and scraped my knee
You were always there to stand me right back up once I fell
I saw the world from atop your shoulders
And when we watched Sleeping Beauty together you told me to never be a damsel in the distress, but to be the dragon instead
And I have always felt safe with you because I knew no matter how far I fell or how badly I was hurt, you would always be there to carry me

And now, brother, look at you,
You're 25 now, and younger than ever
You no longer have the burden of a child who expected you to shine as brilliantly as a constellation
You can relax and let the weight of my six year old body fall from your shoulders
Mama doesn't work quite as much, and you and I aren't quite as close
But maybe that's okay, because a bond like this can't ever be broken, as the shared experience of my first years on this earth tie us together
And I know that no matter how far I go, I'll always be tethered to you
At 15, I know that you don't have superpowers and I'll never be dragon, or a princess
But I do know that you keep teaching me new ways to be strong
And you know that whatever happens in life, we'll do it together, because we are comrades, perfect halves, best friends, siblings
And I look forward to the day when I'm strong enough to carry you.
 Feb 2014 Qynn
AJ
when i confessed to my mother the sins i had unleashed onto my own skin,
the zigzag scars crisscrossing my milky white thighs
as we sat on the couch sipping tea
i have many regrets of the things i repressed,
and my answers to the questions she asked

when we sat crying on the couch that first night,
i wish i'd said,
"i'm so depressed that everything takes up too much energy,
even breathing."
instead of,
"i just feel really overwhelmed."
maybe then, she wouldn't have decided that the road to recovery needed only a math tutor
and a 24-hour suicide watch

when she asked me, gently
if we should tell my grandmother
i wish i'd said,
"no, because she's always been part of the problem."
instead of nodding my head yes,
even while my eyes screamed the word no

when she forced me to go to therapy,
and asked me if it was helping
i wish i'd said,
"no. i'm broken so irreparably that a kind hearted, naive woman could not begin to put the pieces back together."
instead of,
"yeah, mom. she's nice."
as i started to dread the thursday afternoons spent sitting on her couch, trying to distract both her and myself
from the manic depressive elephant in the room
 Feb 2014 Qynn
AJ
bloodshed
 Feb 2014 Qynn
AJ
anywhere from the ages of eight to sixteen
girls start to learn how to clean the blood out of their clothes
to prepare for the war against women

because it's important for us to know how to hide the evidence
of our self-inflicted scars
the ones that we leave on our wrists
and our thighs
and our hearts

and it's even more important to know how to hide the bodies
of the men who don't understand that we're people
not just objects or wives
and that we are human beings
we have wants
we have needs
we have lives
and we must learn to defend ourselves against those
who can't seem to hear the word
no

from the time we are nine years old
woman is synonymous with soldier
and i'm ready for the war
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