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Elizabeth Dec 2013
Later someone told me my poetry should be read aloud
with the feelings that I want to be heard
that my poetry should be spoken word
spoken truth
spoken loud

It was about my struggle
although mine are quite small
a white girl in white bread world
middle class family
stuck in the middle of two cultures
some image issues
some insecurities
being taught to be subservient
and quiet


Now my poetry speaks for itself it speaks with my voice
with my will and with my wanting
it speaks of the boys I like that I will tell I like them
it speaks of the dresses I will still wear even though they make me look ****
it speaks of the self defense classes I will take so I can proudly walk in the night with no fear
it speaks of the career that I will have in medicine
it speaks of the kids that I will raise simultaneously
it speaks to the world that I am me

as my struggles feelings emotions become personal
the words disappear

quiet only when I want them to be

because I am giving you
my spoken words
my spoken feelings
my spoken truth
my spoken life
and keeping a part of me for me

even while I'm speaking loud
a complimentary poem to I was taught poetry
Elizabeth Dec 2013
As a child I was taught poetry
the quiet writing of feelings reflections
often in a beat with a rhyme and a few examples of alliteration

I was taught that as a woman my feelings
should be hid and kept quiet
that when I liked a boy it was not my place
to ask him whether he liked me back
I was taught to look out for myself by not dressing slutty
not walking home late at night
I was taught that my curvy figure would make people
question my morals my virginity my character
I was taught that as a girl I won't be as successful in math or science
I was taught to give myself to other pursuits
in liberal arts or domestic dealings
I was taught that even if by some miracle I found success in the fields where I "wouldn't be successful"
that I would and should give it up in a heart beat to raise a family
I was taught that I must share my feelings
my emotions my struggles
but not in a loud and open way

I had to remain quiet cool composed

Poetry was to be my outlet, written in couplets sonnets and verse
quiet and held inside written on paper
stored away from the world
to be read inside the mind
by others- men, teachers, parents
in order to decode me
and learn how to
keep
me

silent
This is meant to be read aloud/ performed as spoken word. I'm also working on the "sister" poem to this one.
Elizabeth Dec 2013
I picked up a wine glass
not because you told me to
I just had to
pick one up to get back at you

you picked up a wine bottle
but that's not for me
as a lady I must stay classy

I sit here waiting for you
to tell me you want me
I sit here sipping my wine
hoping you will call on me this time

it takes me a few drops to be drunk
drunk off of my feeling
drunk to my core
drunk on
lust
care
want

chasing a silly little dream of you
taking care of me
as i sip my
bordeaux blanc
taking care of myself
in the harsh reality that is my life
Elizabeth Dec 2013
first day
i liked all your pictures
you said a few things and surprisingly i listened
it was my birthday you politely wished me happy birthday
second day
we talked about opera
we share a few favorites
third day
you asked me where I was
I was at TJ's
Fourth day
Fifth day
i sent you a picture of a puppy you sent me pictures of yours
we kept on talking while sitting a few people away
it was nice
sixth day
you said you would stay up with me
we kept each other in good restless company
took a few walks
studied a bit and distracted each other when needed
you invited me over
seventh day
when i came over you gave me your blanket to get under
my head fell into place onto your shoulder because  I was tired
it was very easy comfortable and nice
and as my hands got cold I reached under the blanket
i accidentally grazed your hand
and then in that moment
it wasn't all so accidental
you reached for mine
and our fingers were loosely entangled
i made myself more comfortable
listening to the pulse in between our hands
and your heart beat in sync with mine

and on the eight day i wait
and wait
and wait to understand this week
and to understand you
Elizabeth Dec 2013
I barely know you
But you feel mine,
It might be because I'm tired,
because I'm stressed.
I just want someone,
something feasible.

I want our one handshake to be extended to a hug,
I want something more from you but I can't ask it of you.

Pretend that we have been more than just brief acquaintance,
know that the potential for more is not something I just made up in my mind.

I want to open up to you. I want you to know what a messy life I've lived.
likewise I don't want you to know anything to see me as an enigma to be figured out
to keep you curious in me because at the end of the day I'm rather plain.
I want to hide my missteps because I might not meet your expectations.

All of this is my wants... maybe I should just hear out yours.
If the stars align your wants will be mine and mine yours.
But I don't see you today and not today it will happen.
So I go back into my stress stricken world,
adding you to my worry.
Elizabeth Jul 2013
I've been to camp, I've had roommates, I've lived with my parents

but I've never lived alone.

I've never had to think what's for dinner in a way where I walk into the supermarket and am planning dinner for the whole week
I've never had to worry about a leak in the bathroom a counter that wasn't fully clean.
Now I sound like some rich kid with maids- I wasn't. I would take out the trash at home get the mail do the dishes. But it wasn't more than a chore something I would do to get my allowance to help out my mom or just be useful with my free time.

Now I am an adult. I wash my dishes. I take out the trash. I worry about forgetting to lock my apartment. I go to work in the morning and return at night. And after 19 years of company in my home I sit down for dinner alone.

listening to the whir of my computer as I try to connect with my home my family my friends even a random stranger to cleanse this loneliness of mine.
Elizabeth Jun 2013
I hate it the bitter taste of letting go.
I used to see you every week twice a week like clockwork
I used to take comfort in your conversations
I used to love you, but I don't now
What I have towards you is better

We made faces at each other across the room
Giggled over our professor
******* about the problems people brought
Smiled when it was a good day
Kept a secret together

You would plan all of our nights out
Everyone and you
Everyone loved you

And now I will be in your shoes
Someone will find comfort in me as I found in you
But no one will have that particular smirk
Or that ridiculous laugh.

The friendly flirtations of our days will transition to
Texts, Facebook messages, planned lunches
Lacking that youthful spontaneity of time before
They will be my break in reality, drops of perfection.

But I guess that's growing up
Your end is my beginning
A beginning where I'm venturing alone
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