we write because we don't want to be afriad
she left again just yesterday
said this time it’s gonna be longer
and i know better than to ask
if i can go with her.
this city just isn’t for us
she told me one night
i want to be back in that old town
where we couldn’t see the city light.
she doesn’t ask me to come along
and i don’t ever ask her to stay
because together we only hurt
so maybe it is better this way.
swirl your pencil like a broom
and write your magic spells
isolation became my friend, as i wove spells with graphite. all my life i was told, witches burn by firelight.
don’t listen to what they say
gathering together a witches hunt
hiding in silence stuffy and stiff, i heard the crowds pass by. i could tell them i wasn’t a witch but that would be a lie.
stir the pot carefully
don’t let it boil over
the first spell i ever brewed, was a casted charm of invisibility. but i’ve gone too long without writing, so now they’re gonna catch me.
i was branded with a witch’s mark
for casting a spell on him
i never wrote a spell for him, he fell all on his own. but for all the witch hunters, i was destined to me alone.
one less witch
one more light in the world
stories never told how i gave in willingly, realizing the differences i had wanted to make, could be made by just being me.
they gave my ashes to the king
and claimed that the witch had burned
but the stake was empty that day
because as a witch i burned up from the inside out
(unwritten spells are magic of their own)
until the fire was afriad of me
they-the monsters inside of my head
for faith, i will always believe that you are now one of my better angels
i told them i was afraid of the dark
they said to turn on a light
i told them i was always so angry
they said to get into a fight.
i told them boys wanted things
they said to give them parts of me
i said i was always resiting
they said to give in willingly.
i told them i was sick of living
they asked why live at all
i told them i was at the edge of a building
they asked why not fall.
(for the girl who used to wonder if bathtubs were deep enough to drown in)
there used to be mermaids in the world
until hate fished them all out
luminous girls with iridescent tails
growing legs because of doubt.
but what no one tells you about mermaids is
without water they will not survive
so all the landlocked mermaids
are struggling to stay alive.
all these used to be mermaids
try to drown themselves in bathtubs
sneaking out with true land people
to guzzle liquor at the clubs.
if you ever meet an unhappy girl
remember what she could be
because almost all sad girls are
tailess mermaids from the sea
she skips family dinner to run away from the abuse
a mother born flawed turned perfectionist early
a father working too late to spare but a smile
and two sisters who left as soon as they could
pursuing medical degrees for success which guarantees them praise
While she gets none.
and she calls me on the phone
her voice only slightly scratchy filled with the usual irony and skepticism
she asks
hey//can you meet me//at the record store//at a quarter past ten//because i’m tired//of a never-ending critic//who’s supposed to my mother//but all i get//is salt instead of sugar//tears instead of treats//and waiting hours//in the school lobby//because she forgot//about me again// (am i really that forgettable?)
and i say
hey//yes i’ll meet you there//heard a local band is playing//wanna catch the subway there//new york city has never seemed so pretty//right along there with you
we met at the radio room
throaty music and old coffee smell
and she loses herself in the music
fingers strumming her scratched guitar
dear mother of hers//can’t you see// she is worth more than// a medical degree// she doesn’t wear dress//so what//i like her jeans and sweatpants just fine//because of your abuse//she’s turned hard//not trusting people//and scared to come home at night
because of you// she is afriad//and plugs a straightener into the wall//because of you//she plays classical//until her fingers bruise//while singing secretly along to journey//and mother of hers//while you don’t call it abuse//we all know//that she has scars in places//you cannot see//because you are too busy//trying to make another perfect daughter//to your perfect mother//that you don’t see her
i had my first kiss at eight years old
(he tasted like the lemonade he’d had with lunch)
and i
with muddy shins and splattered shorts
my hair sticking out in a disrray
i (he told me)
tasted like tuna
–he was my best friend after he was my first love
dearest girl don’t trust
boys with sharp eyes masked with slewed questions of mock stupidity
who smile with teeth so bright they mask the fangs
peeking above the horizon of their lips in a faux snarl
and say your name like it is a casual thing to come and go
just one of million to rumble up from their cavernous chests
where their heart is expected to rest
but these kinds of boys have long since turned heartless
an immortal evolutionary adaption Darwin himself could not find the answer to
because these boys are turned more wolf than man
but hide it with the sly superiority of alpha confidence
and let it peek through with the animalistic gleam in their eyes
when full white smiles like that of the full moon
are present on the faces of the girls whose names are spoken
with the casual authority of these boys with fangs tucked neatly
inside the flesh of their lips
and dearest I warn you to never trust boys with honeyed words
that are shadowed with the ashy residue of anger
and the sly smirk of known wittiness
for they are armed with fangs and claws
just waiting to devour you
for drew
he sits alone before class starts
his eyes looking so bleak
but as a man he can’t show his sadness
or else he’ll be labeled as weak.
he does classwork quick
but never the best he can
because he can’t seem too smart
for he is a man.
at home his father raises a hand
tells him to man up and take it
and if he turns to walk away
the harder the hit.
since elementary he’s been told
the rules on how to be a man
but no matter what he does
he is always less than.
he doesn’t understand why
men are labeled by society
supposed to be strong and brave
and without anxiety.
he’s sick of being dehumanized
to a man of steel
because out of all the expectations for superman
none of them are real.
real men hurt and cry
real men feel fear and can be smart
and he believes he is a man
all because of his heart.
she’s always been afraid of the dark
a believer of closets with monsters within
and yet she never imagined
the worst monster was inside of her skin
i think somewhere past the atmosphere
a space boy loved his little space sister
and so he taught her how to ride shooting stars
while catching moonbeams off of comet trails
and he loved her so much that when the choice came
to save her from reality but forget
or them shatter into supernovas together
by growing up
he tried to chose the best one
but his choice was faulty because
she would have shattered a thousand times for him
while he would infinitely decide to grow up for her
–irony is that they both shattered anyways
dai 