love has so many more meanings than the last.
Love takes up more of the space in which emptiness lived until now.
This year, love can be definable,
I've learned that some types of love do not sound like
"I love you"
but can only be felt.
In the kind touches of a companion,
of a new little sister,
or of your cats.
Love that can only be seen,
in the pictures of you and your best friend at a party,
in the face of someone who will stay on the line until you say goodbye first,
in your co-star on stage when you realize you've got it down.
Love that can be defined, but only in the obscurist of ways
because who are we kidding; we're teenagers.
"You are so good"
"I can't wait to see where life takes you"
become immense words of love.
Love only whispered,
in paying for your friend's coffee,
in adding a special touch on a card,
in promising to run away with your best friend when she shows up crying about her mother.
a light touch of mysticism, the kind that makes you stay out late talking in a Walmart parking lot,
the kind that fills you when you make plans to run away to the city after graduation,
the kind that takes you 40 minutes to get lost in before realizing it.
This year was spent loving,
maybe not even myself most of the time, but loving nonetheless.
A swift movement, a soft turn,
and here we are.
A new year of undefinable, definable, mystical, whispered, and purposeful love.
I can't wait to see where life takes us next.
Words are the map fragments of wisdom you need to navigate your way in a world constantly sending you searching for that which you don’t yet have a name.
And don’t keep it to yourself. Your voice deserves to be heard too so scream in cursive and whisper in all CAPS, bleed through paper and heal through the spines of notebooks
you’re spiraling onto something, breathe in commas and step over periods because you’re not over
you’re the most beautiful run-on sentence
You’re an artist whose perspective warrants an audience,
so leave cerulean fingerprint traces in your titanium touches,
mix gesso with mars and be alizarin against charcoal
stand out. And stand up.
Find adventure in the every day. Skydive through small talk, zip line through steps up stairs without an end,
life is the ellipses in silences your eyes seek to make stories,
This world. People. This city you’ve landed yourself and take calculated risks.
Tiptoe through moshpits and stomp through meadows.
Cartwheel into concrete conversations headfirst eyes wide open,
be vulnerable, to those who deserve to see the rawest parts of you.
And leave the ones who’d rather exploit them behind
leave others’ opinions behind. Let them be the ones collecting dust.
You are stronger than you’ll ever know and ten-fold what they’d ever expect.
So let them guess.
Be the question mark in the corner they can’t place.
Your story is complicated. But that makes you interesting.
What doesn’t challenge you doesn’t change you and you’ve been challenged each and every day
you get out of bed and speak when so easily you could’ve lost your voice the night you lost your body.
It took you some time and a few nameless faces to claim it again and you’re still working out what that means,
you’ve always had your own way
but all the sexual assault pamphlets name this normal.
[For once it’s a label you don’t detest.]
So this year be normal if you so choose, but also be weird.
Be loud, not small, be confident, and not sorry.
Take up space.
You deserve to.
You are Woman and you are Strong.
Push, but don’t ever shove.
Love unapologetically and fiercely.
But don’t force what a boy is not willing to give.
Find someone who will pay your heart the same attention he does your body.
Read your body’s brail, your chapters of goosebumps, and play chess with checkers across your skin.
Unlearn and relearn and unlearn and learn to remember you are enough and it is your turn.
Look in the mirror and accept the pieces looking back are in progress.
Watch the moon make way for the sun. Be brighter than both.
Let your irises draw constellations across galaxies unwritten.
Move so far forward, you stop having a reason to look back.
Forgive that which you cannot change.
You’ll make more mistakes, scrape more knees and trip on chainlink chokers, your jewelry limbs you haven’t yet untangled.
But forgive yourself.
Kiss the boy. Kiss the girl. Kiss no one.
Live in the present tense and with future declaratives.
Appreciate the thousands of little moments still looking to be made yours. Make them yours.
You are worth all the struggle. Don’t forget.
Be kind but don’t rewind.
Stay authentic even when you don’t make sense and your words aren’t oil enough to separate
paddle through the waves eyes closed if you have to,
the salt may burn your scars and you may lose your bearings, but keep going.
Maybe this is the year you’re going to learn to swim.
happy New Years to
the girls like me,
who forgive and forget as if
yesterday didn't hurt
and tie knots over wounds
like they lace up shoes
happy New Years to
all the boys who still cry
at night, over
their fathers who don't love them
and things they were never
taught to say
and happy New Years to
everyone in between, to those
who can't tell black from
good from bad, and still don't
how to dress at night
tomorrow might be better.
New years eve.
Where everyone prepares for the new upcoming year.
New years eve, where people get out their finest champagne or heavy liquor. Close friends and family memebers are gathered together, counting time for the clock to hit the new year.
New years eve, where people talk about changing themselves to be better.
New year, new me; they say.
But in reality.
It's a new year, but same them.
No one really keeps their word, not only for themselves.
New year. Everyone is still the same.
This is the truth.
I'm waiting for the sun to rise;
going to cut these worldly ties.
Remembering summer reveries,
The autumn chill, the falling leaves.
Look at how we both have grown;
change for all the time we've blown.
Remembering the winters snow,
the stars above, the ground below.
Lets atone for throwing stones;
we can mend the broken bones.
Remembering that spring revives;
brings new light to cloudy skies.
Stop wearing blue.
It's not your job to make his eyes light up,
It's not your job to let him know you're thinking of him.
Stop drinking english breakfast tea.
You only loved it because he did.
You only loved it because you loved him.
Because you love him.
Try not to break when you see him.
He is a hurricane,
He'll only leave your houses pillaged and your power lines down.
You'll be left to clean up the mess.
You don't love him.
You DON'T love him.
YOU DON'T LOVE HIM.
tell yourself this everyday.
In the shower, at the bus stop, when you're cooking, eating, sleeping...
Maybe if you say it enough it'll be true.
Drink everything and anything just to forget the way his hands felt like God on your skin.
Drink until your fingers are numb and you can't feel your heart.
Kiss a stranger.
Kiss as many fucking strangers as you need
to erase the stamp of his lips from yours
Ignore the pain in your chest
and the feeling that your lungs might burst.
Ignore the shoe box of photographs under your bed,
and the saved messages on your phone.
Forget his laugh...
The phantom fingertips that draw shapes on your skin.
The warmth of his chest under your head.
Forget his heart beat.
Forget his words,
how he was always five steps ahead
and always knew what to say.
Realize that things didn't work out for a reason...
And that Romeo and Juliette both died, so maybe it's better that you're his Rosaline.
Forgive her for being what he needs.
You are not enough.
You never were.
You were only hist stepping stone to her.
Let her complete him in ways you never could.
Let him be happy
i'm baffled by his kindness and patience,
realizing with each compassionate smile he sends my way
that i'm really bad at being a buddhist
i'm hyperventilating in my car,
and it's pouring outside,
and i can't drive home like this
his duvet calls my name,
and i get eyeliner all over his pillow case,
and all he does is stroke my tangled hair
i tell him to date other people,
i try to set him up with my friends,
and i know i'm confusing him
but i need to back track
we don't talk about the messes i leave behind
i don't let our fingers lock
i break the stare if it feels too long
he meets someone else,
and it hurts
because it's the first and last thing i wanted
i don't reach out again,
but when we see each other,
his arms are still open,
just like his mind and heart
they always have been
she's grabbing her coat from inside,
and i don't take a step closer
he meets me more than halfway
some people push you away with hands that say
please don't go
please don't go