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.

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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.

Decay

You touched me and my skin started to rot…
I was no longer sweet; I wasn’t something
you wanted to sink your teeth into.

As my body began to decay I asked,
“will you still want me?”
But you never answered. No one
ever wants something that they
have already tasted.

You Don’t Deserve the Happy Buddha

Please explain what I did. I’m begging you. What did I do to make you change your mind? Please tell me. I was so happy. You made me so happy. I felt so comfortable around you. I could be myself. You made me feel so beautiful. What happened? Was it me? Did you meet someone new? What made her better than me? Was she prettier? Thinner? Did she have a better smile? Was she less shy? I bet she is magic with people. Did she speak more poetically? Did she use larger words? Does she smoke more weed? I wanted to get to know you more. Why didn’t you let me in? Couldn’t you see I would have tried? Why didn’t I deserve a goodbye?

_______________________________________________________________________

I hope you realize what you lost. I hope you see what I was worth. I hope you wake up a week from now and miss me. I hope you miss me miss me miss me. I want you to regret what you did. I want it to haunt you. I want you to feel this pain I feel. I want you to hurt.

_______________________________________________________________________

When I’m more than what you could’ve ever imagined, I hope you taste my tears.