Withers: (verb) “Cease to Flourish”

And my heart withers,
like flowers without water

when will my body stop
pumping blood?

I am breathing!
I am trying!
I am biting my skin!

Sweat pours from my pores;
I am all alone

and my heart withers.

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Consequences

 

Have you ever wanted to push a pen against your skin
without the consequences of a mark?
To feel it glide across the inside of your wrists, your hands…
Doing everything it isn’t supposed to.

But our skin is so vulnerable to stains,
it would only succumb to the black ink;
and everyone would see the mess
you have made.

How to fall in love with a place you grew up resenting…

Leave and see what the rest of the world has to offer you.

Move to a city that feels like another country, even if it’s in the same state.

Face the people who point out your differences with their eyes.

Discover living in a world where timing is everything, especially during rush hours.

Make an amount of money that seemed out of reach before.

Realize that said money isn’t even enough to pay an electricity bill.

Feel lonely in a room full of people because no one smiles at strangers.

Figure out that diversity doesn’t mean acceptance.

Experience suburban claustrophobia.

Dream about the beauty you grew up ignoring.

Go home and remember you were lucky.

So lucky.

I’m Starting to Realize it’s Complicated

(Here’s a poem that reflects my consistent internal dialogue!)

I can’t tell you what I feel like because
Even I don’t know what I feel like;
It’s more of a mess of colors like,
Blues and reds
With hints of green,
But only because your eyes are green,
And this is coming off kind of strong but
Did you know you say all the right things sometimes?
But all the wrong things the other times,
And although you don’t always listen,
When you do listen,
You remember
And that means more than you know,
Or I know
Or they know—
Look I don’t know how to end this
Stupid poem,
Or stupid run on sentence,
Just like I don’t know how to tell you
“I love you” or
that I’m lost when you’re absent.

A Different Kind of Letting Go

Tonight, I got into the bath with my clothes on.
For a moment, I felt the water cling to me as I stood up;
it made me feel heavy and warm,
like the arms of someone who needs me.
The droplets gripped so hard onto the fibers of my sweater;
I could hear their cries as one by one they fell back into the tub:
Drip. Drip. Drip.
“You are so smart and well spoken.”
Drip. Drip. Drip.
“I think you’re so pretty.”
Drip. Drip. Drip.
“No one’s ever touched me as much as you.”
Drip. Drip. Drip.
“I can’t wait to see you again.”

One after one, all of their voices evaporated;
My clothes became easier to carry,
like it never happened at all.