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Omphalos (in progress)In the afternoon, when it’s more humid than you’d think a mountain town would be, I perch on the cement balcony framing the coffee shop below my apartment and write sonnets to the remaining memories of my brother. The lingering smell of apples hangs in the October air and my skin, it feels heavy. Around me lay ceramic pots filled to the brim with half-dead plants that Jake and I had, to no avail, attempted to raise. They’re sad and wilted, leaving something to be desired. I’ve lived here, with my brother’s best friend, for five months now. Living, really, isn’t the right word–I’ve taken up residence, but I am not alive; if anything I am dying here. I don’t know when time started to stand still, but these last months have felt like eons. Time, she holds on to me with her perennial tendrils and roots me to this dystopia. It feels like one day Milo was teasing me about being too cute to be a boy, and the next Jake showed up at my
preciousI am I am
A princess from the sky
I wonder I wonder
Why it is that dogs spin in circles
Before they lay down
Why fathers pass
As quickly as water under a bridge
I hear I hear
The laughter of a sibling
The mewling of a cat
As I descend into my bed
I see I see
My castle walls
Melt into pools of wax
My steed become a mouse
My self spoil
I want I want
To be adored
To be held
To be precious
I pretend I pretend
That I am something
More significant than this
That I am dancing as I lilt down the stairs
I feel I feel
The gossamer threads of a perfect gown
Slip between my fingers
And fall to the ground
I worry I worry
That the dust will stain
My delicate gown
That my reputation will be twined
I am I am
A princess from the sky
I will write enough words
To form a book
And you will read this piece
And cry a few tears
And you will think i am beautiful
I will dream enough dreams
to form a reality
and you will no longer be a piece
and i will cry a few tears,
and think i have a worth apart from you
ravelmentand on occasion we will find ourselves
tired, yet still awake, counting the
ticks on the clock as opposed
to the tocks that follow,
and chewing away at
finger nails, and
Manifest Destinyyou once told me i had
in my head
(you said this because i was delicate,
and sweet, like botany,
and what bird wouldn't want to drink my nectar?)
i shooed you away,
guffawing at the though
of me being desirable to
although it seems now
those angel birds have infiltrated
tucked in under the pleura
like it was thier god given right to be there,
drinking the honey of my
but i cant help
entirely okay with this whole ordeal.
conservationthey've said that
you can only manage 150
at a time
and i sigh, picking and choosing
who can stay and who cannot
trying to keep myself
from closing a book
before its read,
or burning a bridge before its
is not as many
as it sounds
Freudianwhat if i were quiescent and
and calm like water,
lazy beneath a foot bridge.
what if i were literary like
but known like fallacies
and sad like fairytales and
acoustic guitars left,
in trashcans behind bus stops in detroit.
quiddityI've been writing
snippets of my sorrow
(which is transient and lamenting,
waiting for a place to nestle down
and spread like gremlins who are drowning)
as i listen to you chronicle The Day In The Life Of
and as much as i hate to admit it
i wish i weren't so sober
and i wish i weren't so clean
and i wish, really, that
this wasn't me.
It's Okay to be ImperfectThe moon
Stand Against SuicideI know the pain is perhaps unbearable,
But darling, please put down the blade.
Release your emotions through tears and smiles,
Rather than dreading these days.
Do it for the little girl, whose mother can’t be there,
Or for the boy whose father drank too much.
For the boy who can’t sit in elementary school,
Because the bruises from Daddy hurt to touch.
For the teenage girl lying face down in her bed,
Thinking, why can’t it all be done?
For the elderly man looking up at the stars,
Counting the days one by one.
Do it for the children who wonder, does it end?
For the ones who feel left on their own.
For the ones who think, maybe it wouldn’t be so hard
If I didn’t feel so left alone.
And finally, do it for one other person,
The person in front of these words.
Because you’ll never know how it gets better
When focusing on pain and hurt.
Live one more day, dear, for them and for you,
And I swear to you, problems will fade.
I know, for right now, it’s p
I Thought I Needed FeminismI thought I needed feminism, when I was a little girl.
And I am very sad to admit, that this wasn't very long ago.
I thought when he held the door open for me, that he was making a big mistake.
That he was being a pompous ass, and he took my strength for a fake.
And when he offered to pay my tab, I still called him an ass.
Because I thought he assumed I was poor, and below middle class.
Or when his hard work earned him a promotion,
yet I did nothing, and the boss' ignorance to promote me, I believed was a sexist notion.
My friend really wanted feminism when she found her ex-dead drunk,
removed his clothes, and without his consent, had a pleasurable fuck.
When her parents bust into the room unexpected that night,
she said he raped her, and he was arrested without so much as a fight.
Perhaps feminism was there when I walked out into the street in pure nudity,
and shouted the my neighbors “You have no right to judge me!”
I didn't care about the children who were standing in th
Unable to loveMy love was pure
I only wanted
But my heart
Because my love
Like a piece of garbage
And now I'm unable
Because the shreds
Of my shattered soul
MathematicsI am but the sum of my
F L A W S;
a network of
S C A R S
a disaster of
D R E A M S
a shield of
B O N E S
C A L C U L A T I O N
a void of
DifferentDifferent on the outside,
Different mask you see daily,
Different girl you call ‘Hailey’
To my surprise
Your ears are distracted,
So I tell lies, looking into your eyes,
“Yea I’m fine. Simply tired”
For that response my brain is wired.
Different mouth you hear speaking,
Different voice you hear screaming
Different eyes you see pleading,
Different person you’d befriended
I’m sorry this is how it’s ended.
DethronedI have created Eden, through the strokes of my pen,
But it was made of promises, and angels
That were too fragile to hold the weight of our sins.
You were my goddess, on a throne made of dreams.
Which you were probably
They didn't glimmer and shine
like the diamonds decorating your rings.
They were the hopes of a man
So madly in love, but you poured poison into his heart
And so he rotted, each time you gifted him with a kiss.
untitledcall me hummingbird.
leave me small tokens of your love,
fold them tightly
squares and tuck them
into the pocket of my favourite
pair of jeans.
kiss me on the nose
and miss me in your sleep
into the crevices of my heart.
call me lovely,
and hold my cheeks
betwixt your palms
and assure me that it is ok
to not be ok.
(love me please
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