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Megan Feb 10
i. how can i create a legacy when my legs can't hold the pressure i'm given?

ii. how can i keep my eyes on the future when the sea salt tears blurring my peripheral are seeping into the centre of my vision?

iii. how can i keep my heart good and pure when nothing but **** drains into my chest through the bullet holes left in my torso?

iv. how can i love myself when i'm fed propaganda about ethereal goddess-like women that i could never match?

v. how can i create beauty when my hands are plagued with the burden of fixing what those before me broke?

vi. how can i rid my mind of these voices when they're the only company i have?
Megan Mar 2019
I want to write, I want to create.
Weave words into sentences into paragraphs.
I want to inspire and destroy,
conspire and deploy
armies of men and women whose blood is the ink from my pen.
***** these white pages with forbidden words -
the plagues in my brain,
the disaster that is my heart -
imperfectly scribbled in the voice of my fingers.
I want to write, I want to create,
but I just can't find the words...
  Nov 2018 Megan
Lora Lee
This fragile heart
sometimes bursts into
the tiniest shards
                  of infinity
clear as crystal light
yet empty
as an ocean, waterless
longing
to be filled and filled
over and over
as I would fill you
to the brim
overflowing with
enough life
and love to heal
a thousand
                aching moons
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bnXkMNyc794
  Nov 2018 Megan
L
i feel like i’m made of glass
and last february,
you broke me.
i shattered.

you didn’t know
and you didn’t care
and you just. kept. pushing.

i broke into a million jagged pieces
and you
you took some of them with you.
i can’t get them back
and i’m not stupid enough to try.

you shattered me
and i was careless enough
to cut myself in the wreckage.

nothing was the same.

you broke me when i said no
and i thought
maybe
i could put myself back together
by saying yes--
again, and again, and again.
to strangers.
to friends.
to anyone who would listen,
and now all of my bridges are in flames
and i’m getting burned.

do you know what happens to burning glass?
i do.
it’s happening to me

and i’m starting to fly away in the wind,
slipping through my own fingers
like sand on the beach.
scattered so far
and so wide
that finding my way back together is like searching
for a single grain
on the ocean floor.

i'm drowning in my past
searching
for a lifeline
reaching for anything--
for anyone--
that will take me
that will tape me back together
  Nov 2018 Megan
Emilija
I own a good chin to lift
a look that threatens from a distance.
The shield I never thought I’d get in the mail is here,
name written on it and everything.

So I walk out, shield up,
and yet
I shiver if I only get a hint of

A scent,
reminding me of someone
who ****** me with no permission.

Sometimes, I forget the amount of my anger
But, if it bares meaning,
I understand it.
Not only mine, the anger of many women, who

woke up in someone’s bed, and
left there smelling of a body
they didn’t choose to smell of.

Don’t tell me I should’ve said “No.”
Because sometimes the mouth doesn’t listen to the body,
body doesn’t listen to the brain,
the brain is not aware that

six years later you’ll be sobbing with the realization that
you’re afraid of the man you trust most of all

because he produces testosterone.

Six years ago, it happened too fast.
I didn’t say  “No.”
He didn’t give me time to do it.

As I was leaving, eyes clenched to my feet
I let him kiss me and say:

“I hope you don’t regret this night.”

That’s what makes me the angriest.
Well, this is pretty personal, as you can see.
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