for mom
when i was young i used to believe the sweet lies
my mother whispered in my ear.
when i was young i would ride down to the five & dime
12 minutes there and back.
23.
if i pedaled slow
i could avoid her whiskey words and smoke stained skin
i knew so well,
when i was young.
when i was young, braided pig tails and sweet tea filled summer nights.
our brown grass -
and rusted pipes -
and bare feet on broken bottles.
take me back to the home we lived in.
the memories i’ve long since forgotten
and those she never bothered to remember.
when i was young -
lightning bugs and thunder skies
cloud my memory and
drown her sorrows.
when i was young
i didn’t believe in fairytales.
but when i was young
i always believed in her
a girl is a knife
the christmas of 1998 all I asked for was an easy bake oven.
i wanted to bake my mom brownies
with sprinkles.
i hoped the sweet sugar would melt on her tongue and
replace the bitter words that came so naturally.
the christmas of 2001 all I asked for was a bike.
i wanted to ride down the road
down // down // down
into the woods or into a world, any world, other than mine.
the christmas of 2011 all I asked for was a book.
Anna Karenina, I thought.
because even though she was doomed
at least she got the chance to feel alive
this christmas all I’m asking for is a knife
to chop off my hair, and shorten my skirt.
to cut out my heart, alongside my fear.
to end their control and with it, my limits.
a girl is a knife, and i’m yielding a blade.
a love song to my body
close your eyes. feel your body. this body that is yours and yours alone.
notice.
from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. where are you lost to yourself?
i don’t remember the first time my mother slapped me.
i do remember
when i was 6
after failing to clean the bathroom to her liking
getting slapped so hard that
i clattered
to the ground of our 4x4 kitchen
the linoleum imprinted itself onto my skin
or maybe
it was the other way around
all i know is
that day
i wished that this body would disappear,
and me
alongside it
i don’t remember when my anorexia started
i do remember
when i was in 5th grade
all the girls would call me
the pit
because
i came to school so hungry that i'd eat their leftovers
my body dysmorphia began to create a distance
a chasm
between my body and me
i don’t remember the first time someone violated this body
i do remember
when i was 16 working at my first waitressing job
the men that would come in on sundays with the church crowd would stare a little too long and tip a little too much
one day
my father made a rare appearance
(at the shop // in my life)
and he grabbed my ass in front of the restaurant
no one said anything and neither did i
that was the day i began to hate this body
i knew it
belonged
to everyone
but me
i’ve spent years and miles and many lovers running from this body
hoping i could put enough space between us to escape the tragedies that have befallen it
the journey back to myself hasn’t been something beautiful that i’m keen to write on
instead, it’s been nights
splayed on the bathroom floor
hours dry heaving in hopes that i could expel whatever darkness has taken root
sure that my heart will burst from this broken chest
its been too many drinks and too many strangers taking hold of my throat and
me
always me
they say that when a trauma occurs
you should reintegrate the location of the event
gradually
start by looking at a picture of the place
drive or walk by but don’t go inside
revisit with a friend and stay for a few breaths
then
maybe
that’ll be enough
and you’ll be ready to stay a while
i’ve begun looking at pictures of myself
looking at a stranger and searching for some piece of me in her eyes
trying to feel my feet in the grass or the wind on my face
taking a few breaths in hopes that one day
i’ll be able to stay a while
june
it’s been a year since i’ve written.
i guess i’m afraid
now that you’re gone
so are all of the beautiful words
you were my mainstay
the glue that kept me together
my beacon in the dark
it’s true what they say
you never realize how much you love someone until
they’re gone.
i could never give you the love you deserved
i know that
i could never be the person you needed
i do not know how to love gently
my love is wildfire
engulfing
cataclysmic
i wish i could have been good for you
maybe our souls will meet again,
in the next life
i saw you today
walking with someone new
by the apartment we used to share.
i hope she makes you laugh
i hope she loves you gently
i hope she always says yes
when you ask
if she wants to take the long way home.
girls
little girls grow up to be unruly women
girls taught to be seen // not heard
lipstick smeared off with bruised knuckles
pink dresses frayed // ripped to the seam in dark basements
girls trudging through their days asking when they will be seen // not heard
silent screams held back, effortlessly
on the playground they run, pink dresses, frayed
“why don’t you give me a smile”
silent screams held back, effortlessly
learning the ways to be less
“won’t you give me a smile, sweetheart?”
biting their tongues // becoming accustomed to the taste of blood in their mouths
learning the ways to be less
it is better to be voiceless than to be disobedient
but, someday, suddenly. they grow tired – of biting their tongues // of the taste of blood in their mouths
one day // they talk back
decide it is better to be disobedient than voiceless
whose rules are we breaking, anyway?
overture
do you remember -
running bare foot through the untamed grass on that october evening?
crisp leaves consumed your toes and your psyche
you became -
afraid
of falling
in the dirt
&
from your mother’s good graces
but
more afraid of never existing untethered to that land
which consumed all it touched
i’m sorry
for never letting you chase those pipe dreams
&
for convincing you of your own inadequacy
i’m sorry
for looking in the mirror
&
only ever hating who peered back
do you remember
what you wanted to be
when you grew up?
‘a meteorologist’
you’d say
because you thought it sounded smart
do you remember –
that first night our head went fuzzy?
the bitter taste of stolen liquor as
cigarette smoke snuck through your best friend’s lips
those lips you wanted so badly to kiss.
i’m sorry
i wasn’t stronger then
& i’m just as weak, still
do you remember
what you said that first time a boy kissed you?
‘more’
you lied
because you thought he’d make you full
i’m sorry
i never gave you the chance to be infinite
i came crawling out of that once forgiving flesh
at 16
because
at 16
anything soft
reminded me
of decency
and decency
reminded me
how much I lacked
i’m sorry
i was never enough for you
or you, me
do you remember - running bare foot through the untamed grass on that october evening?
crisp leaves consumed your musings
you remember –
how hard you tried to forget -
that
fall leaves abandon their trees
for their own survival
and suddenly you began -
to forgive.