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my final coming of age cry
it feels like i’ve come of age a thousand times
in my daydreams i imagined myself being held by a guy
who would tell me he loves me and that i’ll be alright

he’d be kind and blind to my ugliness
to the part of me that craves feeling numb
he’d take me to his place and make me tea
let me turn his shirt black and bandage where i bleed

instead i’m alone, a few states away from home
remembering who’s been inside of me and all the nights i’ve let myself been sold
and told lies and pretended to be grown

because the ones i’ve had in bed never asked if i was alright
just like the songs and movies i get them off then they leave my side
because even though i thought i’d have my guy
my guy is just my mirror watching my throat run dry,
my chest catching my tears
my guy is a dream and only a dream

i can be happy if i just try,
if i just look up at the pretty blue sky
and think of the people who would never leave my side
but i can’t forget the men who left
the heaviness in my heart and my head
the mistakes i’ve made over again
and then justified with a hatred for the world and myself

because sometimes a girl just wants to be held
but the bottle feels cold and the AC is broke
so she’ll be my friend for tonight
i’ll be my friend for the night
we’re here again. this time the mistake is worse.
I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.
we hid from our mother in the grocery store,
the smell of fresh produce, plastic packaging,
filled our senses
we pretended to be spies
a part of the mob,
giving ourselves a purpose.
broken in disguise

we stood in the corner when we were bad
noses pressed to the wall,
just 30 more minutes
we whispered to each other
I chipped the paint and
imagined a world where I was

at the age of seven I felt
embraced by the world because
it was willing to play with us,
unlike the other kids.
our driveway was steep and
we pretended it was a rollercoaster
bikes flew down the chalk-covered
asphalt and we finally felt alive.

tamara and I
played dress up and
moved the carpets in the basement
so we could rollerskate.
we fought when she didn't want to watch the same show as me.
we cried when we missed our father.
we trembled when we heard glass shattering.
we laughed when we could guess the next line of the movie.
we packed up our toys, my favorite stuffed animal, our Harry Potter box set, our matching bedding, the winter clothes he bought us
we moved between worlds

in one we were young, innocent, and happy
in the other we had already experienced enough suffering for a lifetime
in one we could pretend to be spies
in the other there was no fantasy that would erase the painful truth

tamara and I still live in these worlds,
parallel universes.
17 and 19
and we still spend
nights convincing ourselves
we are happy.
that we can be normal,
and touch men
without fearing they will
make us bleed.

tamara and I are not kids anymore.
except now
we are even worse at pretending.
i love you, tammy.
  May 2018 impractical thoughts
the trees did not complain
the day we carved our initials
into their calloused skin

and isn't it sad that something
so beautiful would put up with
that pain for a love that
would not last?
  Mar 2018 impractical thoughts
No one can know your pain
Not nearly as well as yourself
But the rope won't take it away
It just gives it to someone else
Billions of people around the world;
I must be very lucky.
To have met someone like you.
But I guess,
Not lucky enough
For you to love me back.
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