1
i was in third grade when i was walking with my cousins who were thirteen and newly matured when men screamed at them
i was told not to worry that when i was old
they would do it to me, too
that it would happen to me someday soon
i would get the privilege of a man honking at the sight of my legs

i was in 4th grade when my choir director would wipe my tears and tell me
i wasn't fat when everyone else told me i was
i had the prettiest voice and i
could go digging for chocolates in his pockets
for being the best girl

i was in 6th grade when a boy in art class would slide his hand up my thigh while the teacher wasn't there
he hated me he said
i was fat

it was 6th grade when i was followed home by the man in the yellow house but everyone still says i was just scared
he still looks at me funny

i was in seventh grade when i blushed at my first cat call and held it with pride
i was old enough for this now
some boys didn't think i was fat i was a prize
i told everyone

it was seventh grade when i was at my locker
there was a breath on my neck
close your legs it smells like fish

i was seventeen when i thought i had My Own Moment
how bad do you want it he said
i think you're bleeding he said

i was in the eleventh grade when i tried to make it stop
shhh just enjoy it
i still wear those underwear

i want to know why i hate my body and crumble in fear when i see it
why did i hold my belly and ask my mom if i was fat
at age three

2
i was eighteen when i started ******* to correct the mistakes
taking off my clothes for the men who ask to see my ***** on a pixelated cellphone screen
i'm not allowed to linger on anyone's skin

my purpose on this earth is not to make you ***
there are fires inside me that you could never put out

do not **** me while on a conquest for something better
i am not available at the gas station
on your pit stop to a better place

i want to be ****** in my favorite dress
by someone who takes the time
to learn my last name

i would like to cover my face with flowers so i am masked with something pleasant
we sleep with pillows between our legs because it mimics the feeling of you (i hope)

you are a touch i have never felt

if i was a flower i would be gifted with every touch

a short beautiful life that gets to crumble away when ready

As I am lying in my tree house alone on a Friday night, thoughts of death dance through my mind. I am shrouded in the dark of a starless sky, but unprotected from the sudden gusts of harsh winter wind that eat away at my exposed flesh. The cold of the outside world seems so irrelevant compared to the inside. Loneliness has found its home in this vacant heart of mine. The emptiness sinks in slowly, a little more with each blinding flash of headlights that pass by my driveway. The reality of the situation is that I come out here to be alone because I feel the most isolated when I am surrounded by people.

The sinking of the mid-afternoon sun has yet to lose its magic, but our eyes are unable to recognize the beauty of this world in our old (enough) age. Our surroundings have not changed, but they have changed us.

We close our eyes, blinded by the sun's reflection in the shallow pools of water on the side of the road. With each car we pass, we are getting farther away from a place we once called home. Shadows stretch from barren tree branches and highway signs trying to hold onto the last light of day, but coming up short.  We all come up short in this life.

Our efforts are never enough to stop this dying planet from spinning around the sun once more, but we still try to at least slow it down so we can finally exhale and let go of the air we've been holding in our blackened lungs since the day we were born

It all moves too fast. One minute you've got your whole life ahead of you, and the next you've somehow ended up stuck in a failing relationship or working a job you hate. You never thought you'd make it past high school, and now you're on your own wishing you hadn't.

We're all just wanting someone to stay up with us on the nights when sleep is the last thing on our minds, but we always end up alone, watching the horizon fade to black. The night sky is starless and as empty as we are. Nothing has changed, but nothing's the same. We didn't grow up to be what we thought we would. The sun sets, but we cannot. We will still be awake to greet it in the morning of the next day of our never ending, meaningless lives.

I’ve always had a thing for old photographs.

The way the black casts its shadow on the white and leaves shades of grey in between.

The way they contrast and compliment each other in a single frame.

The way they hide truth but reveal beauty.

Or maybe that’s just how things are in the purest of forms. Maybe they strip bone and leave nothing but spine and smile.

I’ve always had a thing for old photographs.

They’ve always filled the blank spaces of uncertain

Like you my love

You have and will always be a dream

The red sweater in an old photograph

The tickle of rain on my desert heart

Forget the heartbeat, dance to the grey that my veins now play and unwind the colour from your skin.

You’ve always been most faithful locked in the tower of a dream

You’ve always been most beautiful when you didn’t exist.

With his tongue coated in sugar
and a smile seeping with sin,
I ignored what Mama told me
and let that devil in.