I didn't have a sweet sixteen.
I didn't have a sweet anything.
But I didn't complain,
I had no right to.
I was a bad girl,
And besides,
Sixteens not all that sweet anyways.

One sixteen
You had me
Two sixteens
You needed me
Three sixteens
And you were gone
When I almost
Found you
I lost you
Before I knew you
So long

"Ooh-rah", my darling semper fi,
I wish there was more behind this facade, this lie,
This stigma that falls around loving a marine,
Its not just dress blues and m-sixteens,

There's letters, lonely nights, and solitary hearts,
There's learning to awkwardly ****** your own parts,
There's the creeping feeling of insanity growing inside,
The rules and loyalties you must constantly abide,
All the while the front pages will place irrational fears,
That you will loose his soul to these wartime years,

Whether it be explosive passing or emotional withdrawal,
To lose him, your one true love, is the hardest type of fall,
But he'll keep his spirits up and you'll tell him to keep his head down,
And you will be patiently waiting for the moment he comes back around,

And as for myself,
I have not yet fallen and I will stay strong,
Even when my fears constantly prolong,
This tired journey I promised to embark,
Blindfolded, in love with my mind in the dark,

But my heart belongs to my marine; it will always be his,
Until he comes home and long then after, I will be Semper Fidelis.

Here's to showing off about football
Here's to thinking cautiously
Here's to candy
Here's to barely knowing the person who sits two seats away
Here's to a sweet tooth that tests limits
Here's to kitties and puppies
Here's to slowing rejecting the seating chart
Here's to a new chart that brings two seats together
Here's to a mutual friend
Here's to black and blonde hair
Here's to math class
Here's to learning
Here's to growing
Here's to October for reducing two seats away to one
Here's to November for closing the gap
Here's to weird animals
Here's to a new group
Here's to the boy who drops out
Here's to getting to receiving his GED
Here's to "I don't want to go homes"
Here's to choir as well
Here's to the weird science teacher who's room is claimed
Here's to awkward conversations that keep life flowing
Here's to boyfriends that lack approval
Here's to moving to a new room
Here's to arguments about Jess and Dean
Here's to Rory and Lorelai
Here's to that phone call at nine pm
Here's to "He wants to take a break"
Here's to "It's mutual" through heavy tears
Here's to friends ready to comfort
Here's to "He's trying to cheat on you"
Here's to "I just broke up with you, that's what happened"
Here's to feeling comfortable again
Here's to pause buttons for God of War
Here's to "He just broke up with me"
Here's to "He's just doesn't feel the same way anymore"
Here's to comfort and to "I hate him"
Here's to wanting to better oneself
Here's to falling short and crawling back
Here's to first fights
Here's to only lasting twenty minutes
Here's to "He blocked me"
Here's to "He's cheating on me"
Here's to not needing him
Here's to the past coming back to haunt you
Here's to being stabbed by someone once called friend
Here's to silence
Here's to "She's so pretty"
Here's to "I love you"
Here's to "No more pining after lame guys"
Here's to seeing that teacher at Goodwill
Here's to days of brokenness
Here's to hope
Here's to the future
Here's to sweet sixteens
Here's to first cars
Here's to reptiles in rainy weather attire
Here's to sassitude
Here's to sasstastic people
Here's to near deaths
Here's to survivals
Here's to first sleepovers
Here's to lunch at that cute Italian bistro nobody knows
Here's to Philly cheesesteaks
Here's to Thai tea
Here's to "When can we do this again"
Here's to nightmares about rejection
Here's to dreams about perspective
Here's to an undying friendship
Here's to an eternity of trust
Here's to many more days
Here's to you
And here's to me,
Cheers,
Your best friend

It’s my birthday and I feel nothing.
Every year I watch people anticipate their birthdays.
As a kid there’s so much excitement.
As an adult there’s so much dread.
There’s the glorious sweet sixteens.
The exciting turn of being an adult at eighteen.
You turn twenty one and are
completely legal.
It’s a celebration.
A cause for happiness, gifts, parties, and so much more.
It’s a holiday just for you.
Yet year after year I’ve felt nothing.
I feel nothing.
It’s a day to remember for most.
A day I’ve always wished would go away.
I feel as though I have to fake my way through this day.
Pretend I feel the same.
In my eyes it’s just the same as every other day.
Birthdays are meaningless to me.

let me tell you this
the numbers increase
then restart and you change
in increments
like the yellowing of a book
or erosion of a stone
if you must talk sit comfortably
with a beverage of your choosing
and say plainly
here I am
here’s the story of it all

let me tell you about music
about how Boys Don’t Cry
how I sit and let the melancholic
twang of a guitar
and ripple of drums submerge me
like a wave on a winter night
how the syllables of erstwhile years
still hit as hard as cricket *****

let me tell you about the television
the what we don’t need and reality
warped past the point of reality
breathing out the same few sentences
at midday and rat-a-tat of gunfire
on a street of sixteens
or in a dusty ramshackle of a town
now bounding into the spotlight

let me tell you about anxiety
about the bending extending
of my fingers
the inbound heatwave
at the front of my skull
the potentials that rattle
rainmaker until I hear my voice
telling my own voice off

let me tell you about the online world
the vanity that froths across the screen
strangers trying to be strangers
the illusions blow-dried primped
glazed over in a calorific gloss
or the pitter-patter of a criticism
that will unavoidably come
because it can
because this is how you open your mouth
when you can’t be seen

let me tell you about motivation
how it trickles like sand out of me
how it is steam on a windowpane
silvery and ready for me to play
but gone before the first curl of a word
is poured into place
I find naked envelopes everywhere
what is needed concealed under the bed
at the end of a lines-are-busy call

let me tell you about intimacy
to me an outline of a ghost
or an unidentifiable shape
like a face caught in a puddle
there goes a couple
in the first swirl of not-quite love
there are two teens
photographing the evidence
that they are a serious business
thank you very much
condoms instead of pick ‘n’ mix
holding a phone instead of holding a hand

let me tell you
this is how it is
or my version
different from your version
but the roots are the same roots
the premise about the same
do you have questions
It’s not a surprise and I told you
the numbers increase
then restart and you change
in increments

Uniformity and flowers
Laughter and dining table decorations
Little kids running
The Sweet Sixteens burning papers
Elderly and their disease
Cold tea in orange plastic cups
Singing and clothing with a dash of conceit
I had drawn to its close
Dubiety is up in the air
What are we thinking of?
I did not ask for any
And I've always wanted to know
Regarding of what should I have a fancy for
Babbling with the most incoherent argot
How long will it last?
We are not lacking any of it
As if we cry out for more
Wearing this tight red dress is tiresome
Might raise many questions
I found the final dialogue withal
Dissolving into none

She chucked herself from the library,
Five stories blind and hung briefly.
I heard it from a friend.
                                    Laura’s dead.
She found three dead boys,
Hung from cable
                                    and that broke her,
He said.

We threw empty sixteens
From the roof where we gathered,
Spoke each a shattered dream
rushed upon the pavement,
One,
Upon another.
The sidewalk gleamed
In all the shards of Laura,
Green and Amber, Blue and Clear,
And ever farther than the eyes of her,
Splashed out in every blink night town,
In every flick night river where
Everybody drowns.