poem: war + peace, scarlett o’hara, plato (& her)

I have known too much to be secure in what I have known. Even I am sick of this narrative: here is the danger-warning, so listen: rewriting the narrative inside your head so that what happened happened differently is (please don't make me finish this face this). long sigh, and tucking the hair behind my… Continue reading poem: war + peace, scarlett o’hara, plato (& her)

poem: foolish games

i won't tell you his name but it's very beautiful still inside my mouth and i could have civilized him and brought that innocence softness of him into everyday candlelight. the places where i go, now, are only places where he smiled at me once but all is fiction and idealized in this locked box… Continue reading poem: foolish games

poem: clichés at nineteen

the light shifted grey down over her face she did not put herself into crying she just sat on her bed and laughed at the irony of it all. that nothing had really changed that her only romance was chemical (the dopamine he triggered in her psychotic ticking brain). she's over him now, anyway. let… Continue reading poem: clichés at nineteen

poem: stop hoping and stop hurting

stop hoping and stop hurting get out of your head and accept the very aesthetic and terrible life of always being alone. i guess i look good in black, anyway, even if it's always metaphorical (i can't sell myself so cheaply, sorry). but there is truth in the long singular days of staring out the… Continue reading poem: stop hoping and stop hurting

poem: the boy after the anime

if you pulled my dna out in lace like coffee you'd find a girl who cries over anime and foreign boys and has you like a dream under her eyelids. careful, my mother said: it is a thing women do they make these blossoming fantasies where the boy leaves kisses up the side of my… Continue reading poem: the boy after the anime

poem: light snow

in her head he brings her coffee and a small smile, which he places just before her as something young and fragile and maybe delicate. she bites her lips when she smiles back, the cold november in the crinkly spaces of her mittens that scrunch into his black gloves when he takes her hand and… Continue reading poem: light snow

poem: the first boy

his eyes are sparkling liquid chocolate brown. a  cliché description but when he looks over at her and whispers something anti-institutional her fingers want all of the excited energy clenched into his profile and the softness that comes when he speaks to her alone, purely as academics, of course, and as fellow students in a… Continue reading poem: the first boy

poem: the second boy

with a desperately quick--"wait"--! in the golden brown bricked coffee house with her hair curling over her eyes and her palms warmed to perfect cosmopolitan happiness by hands cupping coffee & hands cupping at fragile hopes which already written themselves into great chronicles in her soul: she can already see them: friends, first, then maybe… Continue reading poem: the second boy