Jade,
do you know how much you have changed me?
You have changed me so much,
and as you start to fade away, I have this conflicting feeling of if I want to remember it or not.
I connect you with the person I was before.

Jade,
Ill remember you when you pop into my dreams.
Ill remember you when theres nothing else to think about.
through sad old songs,
through poems and letters,
through grass and flowers,
Ill always remember you as my first love.

Jade is my first love.
he's the one that will always stay in my heart, even after each season passes.
one piece of my heart is always dedicated to him.
I will never forget his birthday, his favorite color, his favorite shirt,
because part of me is him.

smoke across the trees
jade leaves whisper
swinging from the wind

I've grown to love
the sound of my name

swaddled in the contour
of my cupid's bow;

rolling off the tides
of my tongue;

humming
like earthquakes
in my vocal cords

my name--

Jade,
after the precious gemstone.

~

A girl named Jade
beckons the moon
so that it sits
between her palms
brings it closer to earth
through her camera lens,

photographing celestial portraits,
each crater immaculately reproduced.

She grows bouquets
of bluebells in her lungs,
poetic eidos
ringing
from her mouth,

fingers pulsing
against the typewriter
like the oscillation
of a butterfly's wings.

The soft hiss of verse
dissolves on the reader's taste buds,

each stanza an exhalation of
profundity--

unforgettable.

Maybe you were the one
to walk away
but
there will always be
a part of you
that mourns.

Her name etched
onto the surface of your ribs
like they are tombstones

(and they are tombstones).

You lie in wait to be
haunted

(because that's the only way
you'll ever see her again.)


A girl named Jade--

ferociously loyal

but she also declares
her own worth,
recognizing those who will only
abbreviate it.

She is a melodic composition
of sunflower petals and stardust--

but that does not make her fragile;

for her bones
are cast with iron;

mind the crown of
Athenian wisdom;

heart a pounding sea

where water lilies float
and leaches drown;

And of her soul?

A girl named Jade
wears her soul
in an aurora borealis
of purple light

(just as she was always meant to).

⚠Trigger Warning; the following poem contains subject matter pertaining to graphic language, substance abuse, suicidal ideation and opinions on religion that some might find offensive⚠

~

I do not
deserve
the name I was given--

Jade,
after the (semi) precious gemstone.

Girls named Jade
are not supposed to
give strangers the finger
more often than
they hug their mothers
or
say the word
f  u  c  k
more often than
they tell their fathers
that they love them--

are not supposed
to say
(or write)
the word
*******

at all.

And here I am,
having banged out
the word
*******

t̶w̶i̶c̶e̶

thrice
upon my typewriter.

Real charmer,
aren't I?

******* in front
of open windows
just for the ******* i n g sake of it.

(four times.)

Pounding tequila shots
as I grind against the moonlight,
Lana Del Rey's lyrics
throbbing from the speakers:

"My *******tastes like Pepsi Cola..."


Girls named Jade
are not supposed to
get plastered on school nights
(and tipsy before class)
or listen to music

(and the music is
always
too loud.)

about p u s s y.

They don't say
(or write)
the word
*******br>
either.

I've always had a ***** mouth--
this is what a man from church
had told me at eight years old
when I said "****" in front of him.

Girls named Jade
are supposed to go
to church every Sunday--
are supposed to believe in god.

Instead,
I outgrow religion
by the time I am sixteen
(perhaps even before then),

only ever consulting the bible
when I need inspiration
for some tragic poem
narrating the pangs of betrayal.


(It was not Womankind
who betrayed god,
but god who betrayed Womankind

just like I have betrayed
my own name.)


The only thing
I have ever truly believed in is
poetry.


Girls named Jade
are not supposed to
write poetry the way
I write poetry--

all *** & drugs & rock n' roll
tundras & hurricanes
infernos & molten lava
blood & violent minds
suicide & broken hearts

& broken hearts
& broken hearts
& broken hearts

& purple souls--

Girls named Jade
are supposed to
wear their souls
in the colour green.

Your eyes are Moon in ****,
Making mine as the Sun,
So bright it colours our tide,
Almost like that jade of mine.

At night when you’re out of sight,
I pray the clouds to move aside,
Unveiling your pretty light,
You are my ode to abide.