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Kyra Elise Feb 2018
No.
Every time the word ‘no’ comes out of my mouth,
Sorry reverberates
in the cavern of my skull.
As if I had just broken
every, last promise
made for me
when I was forced into
a world of blind eyes
and silent women.

Every time ‘no’ slips out of me
Like an unwelcome spider
Slipping through the crack
Between the wall and the floor
my breath catches
and I think to myself
“what did I just do?”

When a 16-year-old girl said no
to a “prom-posal”
she was murdered
by a 19-year-old male
who was taught his ego
is more important than a
woman’s life.

Because a woman on the subway
was uncomfortable with a man
placing his hands on her
like a ghost
seen by nobody else
she was slammed to the ground
and beaten
until her wrist was broken
and the man was satisfied
that she had paid the right price
for speaking up.

We live in a world
where no means absolutely nothing
when coming from the sweet-glossed lips
of a woman.
Because if no actually
Meant no,
Men would know when to stop.

Instead,
Women are ***** and told never to walk alone at night
Women are ***** and told to carry pink-painted pepper spray
Women are ***** and told “maybe you shouldn’t have dressed like a ****”

And yet
You have the audacity to tell me
That sexism is “dead”
And that I have no reason to worry
About being on my own
In a world where no
Means death.
I wrote this for a creative writing class last semester. This is something that is extremely important to me, we have lots of work to do.
Kyra Elise Mar 2016
Stars beam bright, freely glimmer,
      taunting my soul that wishes to fly.
Glowing with their prideful gaze,
      luring me to meet them in space.
Yet when I try to reach them there
      they can not help but burn me.
*This is a sijo*
Kyra Elise Mar 2016
Stars float freely above
in the rich darkness of the night sky,
claiming no responsibility to the lives below.

But the moon,
hanging heavily below the stars,
is imprisoned
by the tides she creates,
held captive
by the glow of evening romance,
and enslaved
to the culture she has inspired.
Kyra Elise Mar 2016
The first
gentle cracks of the spine
of a book
and the powdery scent
that it holds,
are the last things I need
before closing my eyes
and first things to beckon
me home.

But the best
part of all is the way
plots unfold
and the visions
of stories untold,
can make you leave
all your worries behind
in a world that is lonely and cold.
Kyra Elise Mar 2016
A man at the end of the world
Lifts up his arms, and flies away.
Kyra Elise Mar 2016
Lying in rest position,
ready to play again
awaiting the song of emotion once more.

Ink flowing from the heart
staining the words red
as it empties onto the paper.

Carving into a blank page
as if it were stone,
picking away the surface and going ever deeper.

Playing “God” once more
as a humble human being
imagines a new world
Kyra Elise Mar 2016
Light illuminates the space around me                                                  
and like the branches above,
I long to touch the sun.

I let my feet sweep against the earth,
each soft blade of grass
sending a tingle up my spine.        

I relax into the tree,
releasing into the air a breath,
sharing with this moment
a piece of myself.                    

The scent of earth and moss,
like the feeling of a cool summer rain,
washes over me,
and pulls me into the realm of the in-between.

Like a child’s first snow,
the leaves fall around me.
Floating to the ground, gracefully,
as if they know the chaos that has consumed the world
is only held still in this moment.
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