i miss you \ but i still go shopping \ i miss you \ but i still write \ and i miss you \ but i know that missing you \ shouldn’t consume me \ because together we lived beautifully \ and apart  we carry that beauty \ inside of our chests \ and i can’t live \ without missing you \ because you are one of the most beautiful things \ that has ever happened to me \ you made me not have any birthday wishes \ and you \ are such a wonderous thing \ that i could spend hours \ just missing you \ but i don’t \ because  you taught me that living \ isn’t thinking constantly \ but loving constantly \ and i can love you forever \ and still live

grey

it’s been a while \ since i’ve seen her last \ and i expected \ all to be the same \ but her face is different / no lively color highlighting her cheeks / and her mother / notices my glance / can only offer / a sad smile / because / where is the girl / who buys movie theater popcorn / and doesn’t even watch the film / and the girl who uses / k instead of c / in every book report she writes / and somehow i didn’t think / that the world could reach her / from in the dark corners / where she never was / but i think maybe / that is the greatest lie we tell ourselves:/ we are but safe / as long as we avoid the darkness / but i ask / what if the darkness / has been inside of you / all along?

Posted in mw

loud girl, a slam poem

loud girl isn’t allowed to be quiet

loud girl has to shout things in her loudest decibels

loud girl can’t be quiet

loud girl is expected to be noisy

loud girl shouldn’t be quiet

but loud girl is quiet.

loud girl is quiet when she comes home every day

because loud girl can’t be a loud girl

when her parent’s voices make enough noise

to shred the atoms in the air.

and loud girl is most quiet in the bathroom

with the steady drip drip of the broken faucet

and a razor cupped in her palm.

but loud girl isn’t allowed to be quiet

loud girl must be a loud girl

because she can’t be anything else

when people expect her to be just a loud girl

that is all she will become.

 

at this age i find myself full of polluted ideas

and watered down philosphy from my favorite poets

but this is the contentment stage because before all of this

i found mysef at age thirteen listening to bands no one has ever heard of

typing the lyrics out and printing them on pristine paper which i folded neatly

tucking into the pocket of my now too small jeans.

before all of this i found myself at age fourteen sucking in breaths

because the world had seen fit to deprive me of oxyegn

and i found myself using all the right sources

to get all the wrong answers

as i tried to untangle what was happening to me.

but even before my anger was furnace

and before i learned not to trust boys with sharp smiles

i first learned that i was a girl

and by being a girl i was suddenly reduced to a low status

with my body no longer becoming my own with each stroke of a mascara wand

that i believed held the magic to make me beautiful.

and at this moment in time i understand

how our bodies can contain so much water

and how some of the prettiest things in the universe

can never orbit too close

and most importantly i know that out of all the events that have happened to me

all of the scars and dictionary words i know

my most treasured possession is the letter ‘i’

because that is what has stayed for the entirety of my life

when people changed and left me

when did your hands turn into tools used to light cigarettes

instead of cavities carved to fit mine?

when did you become so enslaved that you smell like desperation

instead of sunshine?

when did you become so lost that even my compass

couldn’t find you?

when did you stop becoming the boy i grew up with

and turn into the man you are now?

when did you change so much that your own sister can’t recognize

you?

when did you stop being you

and become him?

Posted in mw

you grew up so fast.

i wish you would change \ from this how-much-can-we-do \ how many people can we hurt \ how much damage can we do \ all with lighting the match \ for your flavored cigarettes \ man \ back into the boy who \ took things slow \ because he knew that he had time \ used a soft voice \ because when he talked \ people listened \ but instead \ i find a closed door \ what are you even afraid of anymore ? \ because you are treating your body like a cage \ beating again sinews \ and fighting against muscles \ acting as if \ this youth \ is an immortal thing \ but it is not \ and one day \ life is going to catch up \ and you will find yourself \ wondering where things went wrong \ what you did so bad \ to turn up \ in such a place \ as where you are

bookstores used to be our home

i wish us back to//when we used to//hunt for clothes//at the mall//counting our pennies//down to the cent//guessing on the tax cost//before coming up short//laughing at full pockets//at ragged old jeans//we’d spend hours//in the bookstore//thumbing through//e.e. cummings//and edgar allen poe//like they were//the very oxygen//that was keeping us//alive.