she was in her room and the moon was hung capriciously outside and she was sitting on the heater, her legs curled inside herself; she was crying and she wanted to pull her veins out of her too-thin wrists and eat them, letting the wires tangle in her throat—like her emotions used to tangle in… Continue reading poem: i broke the skin but it didn’t hurt (everything is a disappointment)
Tag: heartbreak
poem: music/video/love
we are here for the unknown, for the possibility of falling in love with people who were nothing just one day ago: boys with odd dark smiles, mars and venus colliding when our eyes touch, the Bold and the Dazzling coming in wet flushes, in roses wrapped and snapping. we are here for the aesthetic,… Continue reading poem: music/video/love
poem: the stars turned off, for dramatic romantic effect
I imagine he needs me as much as I need him: I am not idealizing a personality, I am just making a desperate boy who lays awake and would rather have me curled into his side than to have another night spent alone, crying when the color drips, crying when he steps inside his mind… Continue reading poem: the stars turned off, for dramatic romantic effect
poem: summer fruit in the city
so is this what it takes? we are not meant to speak of the inner life, the girls falling like apples; it should all be chaste: small stories of people kissing in stations and camps, her glory fluttering under your hands, her becoming all raw and red. you thought you were a god because she… Continue reading poem: summer fruit in the city
poem: girl waiting alone for her lover, at dusk
I am watching the trees catch Darkness, the cupped hands, the branches, all shaking; feminity is caught tight in the branches, the men are earth and sea and sky. Night stumbles into the foreground; she is drunk, she watches her enthronement: the earth laid thin, dyed with falling eyes, faded mirth, coughing angels. This… Continue reading poem: girl waiting alone for her lover, at dusk
poem: the third boy (but i swear it’s different this time)
I did not want to be here (again): thinking only and always of where you could be where you will be where I might go and pretend to study, just to feel your small blaze as you walk through the room. it is childish, probably unhealthy; I might justify obsession in the name of love,… Continue reading poem: the third boy (but i swear it’s different this time)
poem: small chronicle of living in my head
silent, silent girls play at depression, play at deep aching wounds: as we really saw battles, as if our mothers died and our fathers went mad; as if we were raped on cement floors outside cities, men standing at the door and sharing cigarettes. but, really, these girls are too fantastic and too normal:… Continue reading poem: small chronicle of living in my head
poem: how could i be so stupid? but here we are again.
it is his fault: he smiled at me first, stared at me until I looked up and met his eyes; or our gazes danced around, touching, laughing, sparkling, but never meeting. I thought it was only in books that eye contact made the air crackle. I thought I was done falling in love with people… Continue reading poem: how could i be so stupid? but here we are again.
poem: the other black parade
the pretty people are still alive: the girls in white blouses, the boys being kissed from train-windows. I was alive in aftershock: I had sex with ghosts and wrote love letters to the gods, to the dust motes in my hair. I was waiting for a boy with too pale skin and black eyes… Continue reading poem: the other black parade
poem: what is a woman?
when we were talking, he treated me entirely different from last year, he looked in my eyes and said, "i believe--and i'm sure you do too--", already giving me credit for having the right opinions, the right ideologies; this un-pretty girl who can talk of post-modernism, intersectionality and all the necessary college-activist ideals. but i… Continue reading poem: what is a woman?
the last pavilion 