they shouted and raged,
cried tears that were so angry,
pounded on doors
and keyboards,
until their fingers bled.
they yelled until they were hoarse
and then they whispered until there was no sound.
in the silence you could hear their needs
needs to feel safe,
needs to be strong,
the left and the right,
and neither was wrong.
Tag Archives: love
#fromthedraftsfolder
took scissors to my chest,
pulled out my heart,
tried to show you
just how it was beating.
pulsing in my palms,
grotesque but true,
i couldn’t find words;
to say it’s for you.
youre digusted,
i can tell.
i’ll put it back in,
go back to my hell.
sew myself shut,
i dont need you,
i wont need you,
i’ll tell myself.
This is not a poem;;
Before you read this, just know that you’re probably going to leave angry. You’re probably going to feel your face flush and rage shoot through your brain. You’re probably going to go “who the fuck are you?” and “what kind of bullshit is this?” and that’s okay. I can live with that. So if you can read this open minded, that’d be great. If not, that’s okay. I get it. Some things are just too heavy and too raw for people to lift up and look inside.
To the parent who forgot their kid in the car today, or maybe it was last week, or maybe it was that time you’ve never told anyone about…I am so sorry that happened to you. I imagine you wild-eyed with panic. Maybe you dropped the groceries. Maybe you got back in your car and your heart dropped to the floor when you realized what you’d done. I hope your kid was okay and just know that someone knows that you love that kid so. damn. much. The thing about forgetting is that we never intend to forget and that’s the thing about forgetting. We can’t control what we forget. If you could, we wouldn’t forget the important things.
summer
shampoo on a sunburn,
hawaiian shirts, $2.75,
a latte midight coffee,
conquering the world
1062 steps at a time.
through mud, over mountains,
downpours, rainstorms,
salsa dancing on a boardwalk,
piggyback rides for socks,
smiles and giggles,
bad lip synching,
roadtrips to nowhere,
and everywhere.
eggs and bakey,
breakfast in new places,
you’re the clean space
on my muddy shirt.
we’re the story behind
ugly 50 cent ties
mailed for no reason.
fireworks and hotdogs
and onions and honey mustard
and johnny cash
singing about something.
beaches and sand and sunsets
and dogs and snapchats
cheeseburgers and coffee
and secrets and dates
here we are,
at the close of it,
tan lines fading,
memories bright,
it was beautiful,
it was summer.
#fromthedraftsfolder
I think the thing that gets me the most is that people have this inability to look past laws and borders and cultures and skin and see another human being – and I don’t get that. I don’t get how you can look an innocent child in the eye and say “you don’t belong here.” I don’t get how you can be so wrapped up in political lines and invisible fences that you lose the ability to see another human being as just that – another human being. Someone with fears and insecurities and hopes and dreams – just like you.
I don’t get how you can look someone in the eye and essentially say that they only have value as a human being if they follow the rules you think they should follow. We break the rules every day when we think other people aren’t looking. Maybe we were texting and driving. Maybe we had a little too much to drink. Maybe we didn’t scan that one item in the bottom of the cart. Maybe we blurred the lines on our taxes. So many rules that we break every day – and somehow, without an ounce of guilt, we can look at another human being and value them less because they don’t live up to our expectations.
I don’t get how we can expect compassion and yet we give none. We want leniency in our own lives, but we give none. I don’t understand how you can go through life surrounded by so many people with so many stories and you simply don’t care because it doesn’t concern you. Maybe I’m just overly curious.
Because I want to know why. I want to know why someone crosses the border to come to a country where they could be deported any minute. I want to know how someone got to the point that they’re posting videos on Youtube and you know they need help and yet here we sit – watching with pity or laughter – but still watching. I want to know why people would rather go to war than be educated. How did we get to be so callous?
How is it that we put more value on working hard than we do laughter and family, when at the end of the day we’re all dying. Why do we say “I don’t come to work to make friends” when those are the people you see everyday. Who wants to go to work and be miserable everyday? Why is working hard and being exhausted and broken and miserable a commendable characteristic? Calvinism?
#fromthedraftsfolder
I look in the mirror,
and I tell that girl looking back,
“You are enough, always.”
She doesn’t believe me.
She’s got tears running down her cheeks,
she tells me,
“I’m just white trash.”
#fromthedraftsfolder
Your words burn my soul like bright flame to a lone sheet of paper, mottled with eraser marks and pencil hearts. It is as though you have reached bare-handed through my skin, taken my heart between your fingers, and opened it to my very being. Inch by inch, your words unravel it with the same finesse as an angry sea with a sailboat. I would beg you to be kinder if I thought you would hear it, but I know that my words would fall far short of truly reaching you. You would sooner rip my soul to pieces and leave the pieces to the Devil rather than see that you are no better than the others. You speak of peace and love and truth, but you would sooner have me drown in the ocean rather than believe in peace, or give love, or search for truth in anything other than what you already have found.
#fromthedraftsfolder
when you wake up from a nap
only to discover that somehow
you’ve been buried in sadness.
books.
i want to be with someone
who sees the way i look at books.
someone who notices
the way my fingers trail over covers
as though the right one will speak
straight to my soul.
i want someone who sees
the fire in my eyes
when i talk about
the things that move me.
i want to be with
the person who makes me
feel like im not sorry,
no need to apologize all the time.
someone who will hold me
so close, so tightly
that our souls cannot be separated.
thats it.
thats all i want.
just fucking love me.
no title.
i whispered i miss you
and you said nothing
and its okay that you didnt.
youll miss me someday,
either because you saw me,
and loved me,
or because you didnt
and then you saw me,
and understood what you lost.
