*******
and **** this entire patriarchy
and **** the thoughts in the back of my head
that say that every person feels this way because
it doesn't make it any better.

**** me for being anxious
while there are orphans that don't have friends
and when I try to be their friend
they lure me into love and kiss me only to have me realize
a full
year later
that I am one of a thousand
and yet I'm still torn.

Why?

Are men torn over loving their ******* from James and 7th North?
Are businessmen torn over their secretaries?
Is my brother torn over his tears?
So why
am
I
to-
-rn
over you?
*******
and **** everything you do
to make me love you
and hate you
and want to be in your arms
like I was but 5 minutes ago.

I seek an adventure
in love,
to know thrill and kindred spirits.
You are not that,
no,
no,
you are far from that.
and so I want to kiss-

But I won't.

You are the all-American,
apple pie and baseball and rose gardens at your aunt's house,
but I refuse.
and the chase,
is that why you want me?
Oh, I want to run away to kiss, to kiss, to cry-

But I won't.

I like tie-dye and vegan shakes by the downtown shoppes.
I like free love and history.
I like singing forever and not engineering new
new new new
never knew black deaths.
I want to run to kiss to cry to cry in a kindred set of arms to cheat-

But I won't.

But I can't.

I won't and I can't be
yours.

I can't be your girl,
I can't be your happiness,
I have to be free.
Let me be free.
Or else I'll fly away
and hurt both of us.

Leave that door closed for me
and let me carry my books just
once.

Let me go.

Fight fight fight
the sleep
the
fat
ig
ueNO
must stay awake.
For Kahlua coffee and 3 AM conversations.
Must must must.

Maybe it's ap
NEA I'm awake I promise Mama
you don't have to wake me up
from my midnight nap just
please please please
let me sleep
sleep sleep sleep.

I miss bedtime stories and
laughing laughing laughing,
even the word looks like
it's happy.
I miss not having to stress over
tests tests tests
for chemistry and pregnancy and honesty.
But I miss
you you you
and our songs
I miss you and our grass and our songs
the most
most most most.

Sometimes I wish
I had never met you or
your baggage.

Sometimes I wish
that Miss Promiscuous youngin'
wouldn't hop on you the moment you're sad
Or need a break from life.

Sometimes I wish
I was never sad
But more than that, I wish
that you were never sad anymore.

Sometimes I wish
the whole bunch of you could take a magic pill
and there would be
no hurt
no pain
no depression
no bipolar disorder
but that's not how it works,
huh?

Sometimes I wish
you hadn't taken all those pills before I met you.
So you wouldn't have spasms
all the time now and
have me worry about you.

Sometimes I wish
you didn't take that pill the other day
or get drunk off of the yummy and
text me crying at 4 AM.

But sometimes
sometimes I cry.
I cry at how much I love you
and how much I love dealing with these things.
And how I just might die
if I can't do them.

I walked in
all young and awkward and kindred spirit-less
with a name tag that read
in black marker with my bad penmanship
that only comes on your first day of a new place.

I walked in
and a nameless face greeted me
strange as he was
and asked if my name was Strawberry.
"It sure looks like it, doesn't it?"
I replied courteously.
And so they called me that.

I walked in
months later
to my first weekend with people like me.
and I liked it.
and they all called me Strawberry.

I walked in
on several different occasions
and I grew into my name
as a plant will grow to whatever container
you put it in.
and so people loved me.

I walked in
with an air of summer
an air of sweetness and bitterness and
****
but they still loved me
even more.

I don't know what I will do
when I walk in
my first day as an adult
and they ask me what my name is.
I could tell them "Strawberry,"
but they would laugh.

Adults do not understand
the sweetness and the bitterness
the ****
as only kindred spirits can.