You're a one night stand
But we spent too many nights
I lost count of it.

You're that unexpected kiss
On a drunken wasted night
Of vomits and *****.

You're that awkward hi
Exchanged by strangers who
Thought they both knew each other
But were clearly mistaken for another.

You're the bruise that turns blue
When I accidentally bump my leg
On the corner of the bed.

You're the scar that I never
Knew I had.

You're the bittersweet taste in
My mouth every morning.

You're the last thought lingering
In my head before slumber takes me
And you're the vagueness that
Haunts me in my dreams.

You're the scalding hot shower
In a cold freezing morning.

You're the boiling tea that numbs
My tongue for the rest of the day.

You're the obsession
I will never learn to let go of.

You're that person I will
Never get to call mine.

You're the one that got away.

i was told i could be anything,
so i chose to be a feminist
because
when i suggested my father help with the laundry,
my mother told me i was crazy.
because
meghan tranior's "all about that bass"
is telling bigger girls to be comfortable in their own skin
because skinny girls already do, right?
because
i'd like to make as much as my male coworkers.
because
i was laughed at for wanting to be a doctor instead of a housewife.
because
people look at me strange when i say i don't want kids.
because
when i gave a speech about feminism in my english class,
i was called a man-hater.
because
"my shoulders distract the boy's education".
because
my mom shouldn't have to worry
about what goes in my drink at concerts.

i will be a feminist until
i can tell my boyfriend
"no babe, i'd rather watch the movie"
and i am not told
"you're depriving him of his needs".
until
my body is my body.
until
i no longer have to carry pepper spray on a keychain.
until
women in foreign countries can vote and drive.
until
woman means human.
until
we understand **** culture
and feminism isn't just about women,
it's about humans.

It really terrifies me, you know? The fact that you already know me so well and eventually you'll know me inside and out. Letting people in has never been an easy task for me. I always hated the idea of the other person having an upper hand, something to hold over me. You know my favorite songs and how my eyes will light up if you were ever to turn them on in your car. You know my favorite books and the parts I read more than once, just because they were that good. You know how I like my poetry, emotion so tense and raw you can cut it with a knife. You know the way I awkwardly laugh when I can't find the words to explain my thoughts to you. You know what I don't like about myself, but more importantly, you know what I love about myself. You know of the things I don't really like to talk about and you understand, you understand the way I've hurt. You know the movies I like and which ones I have on replay. You know that on most days, I'm one wrong move away from insane, but you like me anyways. You know that I tell a lot of pointless stories but you still look at me with a fire in your eye, as if I'm telling you your favorite story from when you were a child. You know of my dark past but you also know of my bright future. You know of the way I once hated myself and beat myself up, you now know of the way I love myself and treat my body like a temple. You know of the stupid stories from when I was a child and you somehow find them funny. You know of my goals, my dreams, and where I hope to see myself one day. You know of my flaws, my imperfections, and my little mishaps. You know of the weird habits I have that I would rather not have most people aware of... I must ask, "Why me?"

The coffee on my lips
makes me think
of you
and that time we sat
for hours
as if time was endless
and the world had stopped
for you and I

I always thought that I knew who I was and the woman I ought to be. Lately, I'm really not so sure anymore. Actually, I'm not sure of much of anything anymore. Life is weird and always changing. The only constant thing is the sky. We can always look up. The stars will always twinkle. The sun will always shine. The moon will always be a mystery. I think I was so set on a certain version of "myself" that it caused me to lose myself. I was so focused on pleasing those around me that I forgot to ask myself what it wanted.

I feel most at home
when my pencil is hitting the paper
or my fingers are hitting the keys

I write to have a voice
a voice that screams to be heard
a voice that has been crying out
for so long

I am no longer willing to sit in silence
I deserve to be heard
and I'll scream until someone listens

My pain has been overlooked
my words have been belittled
my voice has been hushed

But not for any longer