They'll call her ruin.
They'll call her shame.

They'll never call her,
by her name.

Once the deed is done.
Her world it shakes.

As all her secrets.
Are laid out bare.

There is no hiding.
This ruined girl.

They'd call her pretty.
They'd call her smart.
They'd call her art.

Till she fell in love
Then fell apart.

The man he ran.
Like most men do.

Escaping the wreckage.
Of his youth.

The ruined girl,
was left alone.

Becoming a cautionary tale.
Of women's woes.

Whispering through history.
"Be careful with whom you love."

in the afternoon we chew our pills,
sweating the backs of knees, armpits,
blessed the skittering of grass on down-brushed
shins.
pulsing behind our eyes, weeping the veins,
shuddering the voltaic nerves. god,
the excedrin.

I spy
with my little eye,
something beginning with I.
I wonder
if the kids younger
than I, know what it is to wonder.

To dream
of all that's unseen
and the places they've never been.
When sat
do they know how to relax
with just their thoughts as they plait,

their hair
or ears of a teddy bear
adding a bow for a flair,
to see
all their creativity
at the age of only three.

And how
parents let them plough
through screens without
a notion
that this motion
is only just a token

gesture
undress her
she's no saviour.
As she
believes the he
is here to set her free.

Romanticise
see the prize
a body plasticised.
Naïvety
meant to be
girls don't you see.

Plastic
elastic  
please don't be sarcsatic,
she dreams
to be
the perfect thing to see,

but don't you see
it's not meant to be
she.
That girl of only three
now forever ****** to be,

Perfect.

A statement
not a standard,
so please don't do this to her.
Ignore her
for her
one day she'll thank ya'.

I spy,
with my little eye,
someone. Who wants to cry

In my first sighting of you,  
I painted a picture I could not erase,  
a canvas of disdain—your dress, your gait,  
the way your laughter danced like light,  
your long hair, a glowing shroud,  
your bronze skin, kissed by the sun,  
and the flowers you nurtured,  
while I, a ghost of my own mind,  
waged war against my garden,  
killing blooms for the weight I carry,  
the burden of looking at lives not my own.  

Yet, in the depths of my heart,  
I found admiration where hatred once thrived.  
I never craved your light;  
I like my eggs with edges burnt,  
my garden a desolate expanse,  
but in this solitude, I am not alone.  
What I know is a quiet truth,  
that to admit my feelings is to drown  
into the depths of my own despair,  
but I write this, inspired by the  
long shadows of your existence,  
a reflection of my own tangled soul.

the first time i wanted to kiss a girl i was only 13,
she was kind and happy and free,
she snuck into my dreams,
she bathed my thought with warm sunshine, dripping in honey like gold,
she was sweet and i always looked at her for too long,
she felt unreal, like i made her up
she wasn't necessarily gentle but she always somehow felt like glass,
like if i wasnt gentle she would shatter and id realize,

she was just in my head

it's july
and we're falling out of bars
incense clinging to our hair
chasing the last
of the saccharine sun
each strawberry stained kiss
introducing us to god

it's july
and we're hiding under satin sheets
moonlight dancing
upon naked flame
sticky fingers
trying to hold us together
your teeth find my skin
and i can never find the words
to tell you how you've marked me
like spoiled fruit
in the summer heat

it's july
and each amber scented day
leaves me longing
for the month we stole
your eyes met mine
and it felt like a wound mending
before slipping away
with the autumn breeze

it's july
and all i can see is you.

Take me out
onto the roller rink,
where, under the neon disco ball, everything turns
pink and hazy

Make me out
to be your in-line princess,
your ribbon-bred baby

Spin me 'round and 'round
drivin' me crazy crazy crazy

Bring me to my knees
sorry, you whispered to me
"oopsie-daisy"

Drop me to the floor
my crustacean legs
fold crooked underneath me like a crab
i skip back onto the tips of my toes
i cover up quick like a lady

Still, I wait patiently for more
Still, spinning under these hazy neon lights
looking for someone new again,
looking for somewhere else to score.

I wish I was good at being myself
I spend my day overanalyzing videos, trying to understand what everyone does and I don’t
I try to find new ways of being myself while looking into others

I wish I was good at being a girl
Good at keeping my hair brushed
Good at keeping myself beautiful and available

I wish I could stop
Stop dreaming of running away
I wish I could stop feeling rage in every finger, it hurts to touch the ones I love with so much scorn in my hands
I wish I could be here without wishing to be there and away from where I am
I wish I could stop
Stop the madness in my head, the run on sentences that sprint laps around the person standing infant of me

I think thats why I’m bad at being a girl
I'm not the good kind of girl
Not the kind of girl who loves, I obsess
Not the kind of girl who savors life, I just try everything at once
The kind who runs when she needs to rest
I wish I could stop and simply be a girl