Wait...

It’s like trying to breathe under water.

You know you’re drowning but you’re still desperately trying to breathe. Because you can see everyone else around you is breathing just fine.

And it’s that slow kind of death. The agonizingly slow death that burns you from the inside out. You hear it in the words that other people say around you, it doesn’t even have to be to you to hurt.

            “bisexuals are just greedy people.”

                                                                                            “you’re one of those normal girls, right?”

“what do you mean?”

                            “you know, you’re not part of the lgbt—whatever, right?”

( I don’t know what normal is. )

You feel it when their gaze is on you. 

You can’t kiss a girl without feeling eyes on you. Sometimes you can’t even hold hands.

Because sometimes they push you away because all they feel is everyone’s eyes burning them.

And it’s like a stabbing in the chest when you hear her mother gushing about her date with a boy because all you want to do is scream in her face that it’s you she’s with.

                                                                                                                                                   But you don’t.

And if you’re with a boy people will wonder if you were ever really real about it at all?

as if you’re a fucking mythical creature with wings.

You’re trapped within your head and you’re screaming, constantly, But no one ever hears you.

You’re ashamed and you’re not even sure of what. Are you ashamed of who you love? Or are you ashamed because you feel too much of a coward to say it?

But you’re tired. All the time. It’s like you never sleep. Or worse off, it’s like you’re in a constant cycle of sleep paralysis. Your body’s unmoving, paralyzed and you can’t feel anything but the heavy weight on your chest, because you still cannot breathe for the life of you. And when you wake up, it’s like all the energy has been drained out of you, because you didn’t really sleep. You were too busy trying to wake up.

Kids kill themselves over it. Kids kill themselves because they feel like it will never get better. Kids kill themselves because they’re afraid they will never get a happy ending.

You never see it in the movies, in books or tv shows. Someone almost always dies. And that one, she breaks her heart and ends up with a boy.

You’re hopeless.

If there’s no shot at a happy ending when everyone else gets one, what’s the point?

but, wait,

wait because it’s true what they say, it is darkest before the dawn

wait because there’s two girls living in austin texas and one of them got down on one knee and the other was just about to do the same 

wait because there are two boys going to prom together and they got each other roses and it’s beautiful 

wait because your favorite artist just came out as bi and that makes her not normal like you, right? 

wait because there’s people marching every june with rainbows on their skin and they wear them like armor 

and one of them will stop and they’ll hug you because they are just like you

wait because your happy ending is you writing a happy ending for others just like you, your happy ending is showing the world who you are and not being afraid of it anymore.

Be careful when she finds her power.

I’ve spent a long time living in the darkest shadows of my own mind

I’ve easily mastered the duality of being a prisoner while being the tyrant who keeps me imprisoned

and although I have reminded myself again and again what I am made of,

rarely ever have I felt my own power.

Fear has clung to my neck, created crescent moons on my skin as a constant reminder of my past

“look what can happen”.

I’m all too familiar with trauma, rejection and failure.

Why try if it leads to pain, is what I have whispered to myself and let it echo within my own head.

It’s only until recently that a new voice has emerged and she tells me to allow myself the chance

the chance to succeed, the chance to grow….

“see, what you have done with what you have.

There is only one you.

No one has seen the world the way you have or has walked in the same way.

Trust.”

The euphoria of hope is inexplicable,

A high I do not want to come down from

It feels as though I am taking a step towards the throne and not as a subject but as a person who belongs on the seat

I can count on my hands how many times I’ve felt this magic

And all there is left to say is, gear up my little demons for I have found my swords.

I slept through the days

I’d like to fall in love again

I feel as though I’ve been in a dreary sleep

I wake up and think ‘here we go again.’

I’d like to breathe in the fresh air again, feel the wind in my hair, look up at the sky in wonder

I’d like to escape from the imprisonment of my own mind where I am the sole guard

I miss the days where I saw the snow fall as if it were the first time,

where drinking hot chocolate felt like a warm embrace

I would like to point the blame at someone else but the truth is, I’ve been the one sleepwalking

I have closed my eyes and covered my ears with package stuffing

I woke up with a start, rubbed the sleep from my eyes and I am learning to see

Hello, 2021.

I like blank canvases

I like the fresh start of a Monday morning

I love a new chapter.

It’s the adrenaline rush of watching a blank page fill in with paragraphs and paragraphs of words

It’s the rush of preparing a canvas just to color it with paint

It’s the promise of transformation

Didn’t you know, I’m a Scorpio and we are phoenixes

we love rising from the ashes

I love wrecking myself just to make myself a blank slate

What will I be next?

What promises do tomorrow hold?

I’d like to look at myself in the mirror and shed the skin off of my back to make room for myself

I’d like to pluck away the parts that don’t fit anymore

Let me try something new on until I find the pieces that belong

Let me write myself a new story, paint a new picture, whatever it is,

let it be true to who I am inside.

If you could see what I see

My dreams are larger than life

Too many times I’ve been alone in my corner

I’ve stared out the window, I’ve closed my eyes, I’ve distanced myself from the ground

and I’ve lived infinite lives.

I’d like to tell you the story of a girl who talks to the dead

and I’d like to tell you about the blind girl who loved the woman with snakes in her hair.

I’d like to introduce you to a group of friends with broken hearts and all their flaws.

There’s worlds upon worlds living in my head,

they grow like seedlings and sprout to buds until they’re whispering in my ears.

I’d do anything to share my eyes with you

I like to write down their thoughts, little scribblings in my notebook of inside jokes, little moments that I’m waiting to bring to life.

I tear myself apart trying to share these worlds with you, split open my ribcage so that everything will spill out like ink dripping from a bottle.

I want

I want

I want.

I want more than anything to share what I see.

There’s no amount of words or poetry that I could recite to you that would explain this unyielding need to give what I have

If I could let you live in my head for just a moment, maybe then you would see.

I take after my mother.

I have my mothers eyes.

They’re the same shade of brown, dark and almost black unless you take a closer look.

They droop in a way that people call them sad eyes.

Her sadness, I got that too.

We cry in solitude and lift our chins the same way

We lose sleep and it shows under our eyes,

she prays to God and I pray to the stars.

Our intensity is flaring, intimidating and she taught how to walk alone.

She knew the world did not take kindly to women like us, so she taught me how to stand.

A Graveyard of Memories

I see too many ghosts

They are haunting the ink splatters of your notes,

they rattle the binds of exchanged jewlery, broken necklaces and their rusted chains.

I have books with faded fingerprints and carefully folded dog ears.

I have been told there’s nothing more difficult than mourning those who are still amongst the living, their ghosts live in the spaces of our drawers, carefully tucked away to forget.

But they’ll creep on you on when you least expect it, like a carefully crafted “boo“ on their part.

I hold too much sentimental value for past lovers and once upon a time friends who dried away my tears,

I let a graveyard build of inanimate objects telling me stories of far away memories,

but the great thing is a ghost is only scary until you get used to it.

We all break our rules for someone.

I’ve never been good at holding back my tongue.

With one little quip my mouth runs away from me

I’ll show you my ugly before anything else

I’d rather have my thoughts on a megaphone so you will never second guess who I am or where I stand

and my thoughts are cautionary tape: don’t get too close

At least, that’s what I’ve told myself again and again; like a broken record, I remind myself the dangers of people. We’re all just disappointments.

I’ve been so good at keeping people at a distance

but you, oh God you, you snuck up on me.

You’ve seen me spit fire as if it’s my mother tongue and instead of recoiling you’ve looked me straight in the eye.

“Bullshit.“

I’ve never had anyone call me out on a bluff like you.

I wonder if I would have run away if I caught on sooner, if I knew I would allow myself to rest my head on your thighs instead of in between them.

And for the first time in a long time my mouth is dry as if I’ve sucked all the air from the room. A quietness settles over me as words escape me.

I’m speaking in a language I’ve never spoken before, all soft gazes and gentle touches.

How do I tell you I love you when the word is foreign on my tongue?

2:00 am

It’s easier to fall in love at night

where strangers roam empty roads, escaping from the demons that shackle their ankles and hover over their hearts,

where strangers park their cars in empty parking lots and divulge their deepest secrets until their strangers no more.

It’s as if the night holds secrets and everyone speaks in hushed tones

I feel safer at night with you then during the day with anyone else,

maybe it’s because the night is our private affair, away from prying eyes and obligations are a thing of the morning

I’ll watch the lights turn from red to green and yellow as if it’s a way of seeing time moving forward because with you here, illuminated under flickering lights, it feels as though time is standing still

“It’s 2:00 am,” you say as a start of a goodbye and I can’t help but think I’d give you all my hours if it meant lying with you,

I’ll take eternity in the night with you where it’s safe and we’ll whisper sweet nothings

But instead I smile sadly with sleep coating my eyes and we travel back to the familiar road of my place.

When I reach my bed I’ll stay up another hour just to think of you and our 2am kiss goodbye.

Holiday Blues

A pretty picture of red and green,

a cup of hot cocoa, a drop of sparkling cheer,

it’s hard to stay merry when blue colors me.

Miles away lies a family I’ve left behind,

It’s this time of year I wish more dearly to be but a car ride away.

Red-eyes are the only red I want to see but too often it’s just the kind over pixelated screens.

“I miss you’s” and “I love you’s” are words not often spoken but it’s a feeling I get surrounded by cheer and I hope you know I’m thinking of you.

Forlorn away from you, with a sigh and a palm to my cheek,

merry christmas from miles away

Do the stars gaze back?

I catch myself staring into the sky,

abysmal and infinite,

I can’t help but wonder if the stars gaze back too.

What secrets do they hold?

And do they whisper amongst each other?

Do the stars play favorites?

Am I a favorite?

I spend so much time looking up, bringing my fingertips to my lips and sending a kiss of prayer to the closest thing to heaven

but I know they are but distant relatives of mine,

for I am made of the same stardust as them.

Do the the stars gaze back and do they recognize me?

Perhaps I’m merely longing for home

Perhaps that is the familiar feeling I get when I peer back at them,

like a warmth that spreads from my chest, splitting me open and my flesh is raw and vulnerable,

yet I feel safe under their watch.

I’d like to think I’m not alone,

so I’ll pine for Orion, Cassiopeia, Andromeda…

every single one and surely, at least one will look back at me.

A Mother I don't understand

The universe is a funny thing.

Often times I’m not sure we agree.

Perhaps I’m just impatient and the universe has a lesson plan for the art of waiting

Maybe the universe is making room for something truly more beautiful and grander than what I can imagine

It’s only that sometimes it feels as though the universe has dealt me a bad deck of cards

I’ve learned from those games but my hands are still bloody from the paper cuts

I want to ask the universe what she has in store for me, why she let me bleed out for days, months and even years.

Sometimes I don’t know which direction she wants me to go

Plans fall short that sometimes I feel as though she wants me to give up,

but she must know that would never happen.

She may fight me on my dreams or maybe she’s just conditioning me to fight,

whatever the case, the universe and I fight for the greater good

and she is like a mother I don’t understand but love nonetheless

and I give thanks to her for the callouses on my hands.

I give thanks to her for all the moments I do take for granted.

I give thanks to her for seeing what I cannot see and hearing what I cannot hear,

she is bigger than me

who am I to say I know more than her when she’s older and wiser.

I am a child looking up to her and I can only wish that I will one day wear the same eyes as she does

a love poem to the girls I've wanted to kiss

There’s something so soft about girls

Even the girls with thick eyebrows burrowed in a serious stare,

or jawlines cut like a knife,

when they sleep it’s hard not to want to kiss away the sleep from their eyes,

to run a hand across their cheek or brush the stray strands of hair from their face.

When they laugh it can be like the sun kissed your skin and it warms you from head to toe.

There’s something so soft about girls

I gravitate toward you like a magnetic pull,

there’s something so magnetizing about the way you move through the world.

It’s like girls are storms you can’t look away from, so strong and devastating

And my hand will almost always welcome theirs, when they reach over so generously, whether it is to comfort or to guide, whatever it is, two palms kissing is the most innocent of forms.

I’d like to lie in this garden with you in complete solitude,

let’s talk about the how the sky kisses the sea,

tell me about your dreams and my lips will quiver

I’d like to stay where time stands still

but only as long as you’re here too.

And I am just a girl who is soft for you, I melt for you like fresh honey dripping from a honeycomb

I am soft for you.

There’s a universe spilling from your openings.

Constellations and galaxies embedded in your veins,

every cut is a storm of shooting stars like dust falling from the heavens.

My love, how I wish for you to see yourself through my eyes.

you colored me purple inside

They say leave people softer than how you found them,

But you left me too soft,

I’m bruised and I flinch at everyone’s touch.

game over

Remember when we’d fight over who loved each other more?

We’d always settle for a draw.

Now I know I won that war.

Distortions are more than just the mirrors we stare at

I turn to the mirror and I talk to her every day

Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is my greatest enemy of them all?

Broad shoulders, bloated stomach, short stature, tired eyes.

Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is my greatest enemy of them all?

Awkward, moves are choppy and you hold no talent

Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is my greatest enemy of them all?

Lazy, unmotivated and you have nothing to offer the world.

….

When I look at myself I feel like I know myself

If I held any sort of degree it would be about knowing my own self because who else could know me better?

I see myself every day

And yet, how wrong could I be about the girl staring back at me

Everything she has endured, everything she is and was all rolled into one, how could staring at the mirror possibly paint the bigger picture?

Why do I treat her like she’s under a magnifying glass when there’s so much more to her than the one spot I keep staring at?

Distortion comes from not seeing how she was made, not seeing the places she’s been and what has worn her down

Mirror, mirror, on the wall, how could you not tell me where I was a year ago?

Mirror, mirror, on the wall, how could you not tell me the ways I’ve changed?

Mirror, mirror, on the wall, why do you stay silent?

I asked her who my greatest enemy was of them all and I thought she answered back but I only heard my own voice and I only saw my own face.

Dear Pain,

I know you so well. I’ve been with you for so many years. I can’t remember a time when you weren’t with me. Despite that, every time you arrive it’s like meeting you for the first time. I feel you in my head, a cloudiness, a fog that won’t dissipate. I feel you in my chest, heavy like blocks of cement. I feel you when I trudge along, heavy in my footsteps. When you’re with me, I wish I could fall into nothingness. You are too intense. Too much like drowning and I want air, I want breath, but I know with you I can’t have it.

I try to fight you off. I try to fend myself with productivity, cleanliness… I push and push until I feel myself collapse.

I am collapsed again. I want nothing and I want everything all at once. I want to stay in this pit, eat the dirt of the grave I’m in and bury myself further until I’m comfortable.

But I also don’t want you. I want to want to claw myself back from the earth. I want the will that I don’t have, the will that you take from me again and again.

Pain, I wish I could comfort you. I wish I could give you what you need to stay away. I wish you didn’t love me enough to come back.

Stop the hollowing

the first is the sharp knife to the chest.
It knocks the wind straight out of you,
it’s a quick punch, so sharp and sudden that you’re frozen in shock.
It’s not the worst of the pain but just the beginning.
They’ll tear the knife down your chest,
dragging and prolonging the pain
so that your screams are more like strangled gasps of air.
There’s a break afterwards, a quietness as they prepare for the next step.
You’ll taste the salt from your tears, catch your breath from the pain
and a numbness will begin to spread as you’re left to bleed out.
They come back soon enough, quickly snatching the numbness away
When they jerk your ribcage apart.
Bones break with such sharpness.
And then they take.
They take away everything inside you.
Carve away every little piece of you so it hurts.
It’s the hollowing.
The hollowing doesn’t stop.

Sometimes I try to love myself

I have to comfort myself,
rub my palms together or let my own thumb run along my skin the way a loved one’s should.
Sometimes I hug myself to imitate love.
I’ll whisper sweet words, reassurances that no one else can give me.
I wish I could kiss my own skin,
Leave trails of red along my own pigment just to see love.
When love is distant and almost gone I have to,
I have to keep my own sanity,
Remind myself I am loveable,
Even when the world tells me I’m not.