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Miranda Wang Apr 2019
one of those days
where everything I say comes
crashing out like waves
salty, unforgiving,
pouring over people, and
i can tell they all hate it.
blood spills over, *****
stained state
of being.
Miranda Wang Apr 2019
hungry is a trophy
that makes you choke, made
of snakes that slither back
up your throat, slimy
and shameful; but it glistens.

hungry is a symbol
that makes everything simple:
"just focus on me"
just try to stay clean.

hungry is a gesture
like holding on to some kind of
unforgiving treasure,
a backpack full of
ants and half eaten apples.

hungry is pride
hungry is I tried
I did try,
didn't I?
Miranda Wang Jan 2014
knees to chest, chin to knees,
chunky knit sweater scarf patrolling
my peripherals when i want to see
your expression from the corner
of my eye; it starts to slip my mind
and i am a horse with blinders, i am
looking through a window’s blinds that
draw vertical shadows like a maze
out of the morning sun.

you give me the glasses to peer through at you
but then we are laughing like nothing happened,
undermining what happened because nothing happened;
and i open myself to you,
flow like fast lava, molten hot and rushing.
swallowed by my own thoughts until i can’t see you again,
until i can’t see anything-

saw you walking around the other day,
with arms outstretched like wings,
with dark purple eclipses under your
eyes like bad makeup from falling
asleep to the sunrise again.

and i’ll tell you, “you seem tired,”
and you’ll tell me, “i am tired.”

over circles of coffee mug stains on
white, white sheets of papers to
read, Times New Roman burned into
the backs of your eyelids so hot it stings
when you take out your contact lenses.

and i’ll see you now, in a new light-
still halfway shrouded in shadows, you
are like an unfinished rubik’s cube;
i try to put red and red together but
each turn only reveals more colors, more
pieces to collect before i can solve
your puzzle.
Miranda Wang Nov 2013
she soaked up their hateful words
like droplets of rain falling
into open wide
eyes.

her thin spine straightened,
extended notch by notch.
stems grew in-between
spaces once expansive
with loneliness. leaves
sprouted,  facing up
like palms reaching
out towards
the sun.

the seeds of bitterness
sprouted into vines
that curled around
her legs and burst
flowers from
her skin.

resentment grew into
fox gloves and freesias,
forget-me-nots and
the occasional flax.
venus fly trap for
a mouth to catch
the judgments
where

they will be digested
slowly, but surely,
as she keeps
growing
and
growing.
Miranda Wang Nov 2013
Homeward bound, I am
perpetually spinning in this
smoky, laser-filled dream
of emotions.

The affinity tasted like
cranberry ***** straight
from a she-devil’s raw lips.

The melancholy unleashed
defense mechanisms in
my taste buds.

Skepticism played like
pointy, nonmusical harmonies
cramming into the cracks
of my mind.

Driving down this same latitude,
only full-length roads ahead, no grocery stories,
no gas stations, dark pavement on-repeat
like tribal drumming.
a found poem from a spread in my Nylon magazine!
Miranda Wang Oct 2013
Waterproof eyeliner is a shield, soaked
black hair, like charcoal, pressed against
frozen numb ear lobes, holding in place water-damaged plastic buds,
once blasting melodies of black and blue emotion,
with hands clenched in fists of futility.
The jagged edges of her beauty have
the ocean boiling again, and the clams
spat out bursts of fire.

It was a late weekday moon,
the beach was silent but the sound
of their heavy breaths swooped across the sand,
and their laughter rose like the waves.
“Killin’ that bottle to get smashed.”
She was convinced so eloquently,
before downing a gulp of bittersweet liquid
before drowning in a gulp of bittersalt sea.

Sarah Rose Sedwick.
Swallowed by the waves.
The icy Pacific Ocean water
claiming territory
in her lungs,
dark, salty deepness chilling to
the core of her soft bones.

A memory is written
on a clean blank sheet.
Nothing now but
a paper boat
in the wind.
Miranda Wang Oct 2013
Please understand.
I am someone who started with a plan and ended
with a mission; I have seen you in your raw beginnings
and I hope I won’t live to the day the sun expands and expands
until it bursts into a million little pieces and takes
you with it.

Treat me
like your lifeboat. It is
not my job to cross-examine your every
move yet the woodpecker
in my heart frantically rattles away
when I am unaware
of the places you seek
to find refuge: a blue hoodie understands you,
acts like armor to defend you. And who am I
to take that away?

I have to take things away, I am
trying to shape you with these hands,
hands accuse you and choose to
make you do things that will at first
feel like whiplash. It is involuntary, a
knee-**** reaction, but I promise you,
I will make sure it all ends okay.

So let me help you.
Closed eyelids cannot read thoughts.
And rejection still stings even if
you expect it. I am not supposed to
understand you, I am out-dated,
like the mix tapes that still speak to me.
I reach out to unblinking faces and
disappearing validation. I leave my
arms in case you fall.  

And aren’t there times when
I’ve tried and tried, and want to
pack my bags and leave it all behind?
Never finish the laundry, put the dishes
aside, stop counting all the hours all the time,
rest these weary hands, and learn how to fly.

But patience
is a virtue, and I’ve had my time.
Now it’s yours. You are ivy, I am
the fence you grow around;
I will bring you closer to the sunlight
and keep your roots in the ground.
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