Feelings? I have none.
Hey, you're not going to like what I have to say. But I need to tell you anyways.
So. Do you remember our first date? When we got lunch, then boba tea, then walked around the pond in the park?
When we sat on the metal park bench; it was so hot but we stayed for the better part of an hour. One of my legs was strewn across your lap, and one of your hands found a home where my hair meets my collarbone. You told me, "This is my new favorite place, with my new favorite person, in my new favorite moment." It wasn't the most poetic, but I had wanted to hear you say it again and again.
However. When our lips met, the spark dissipated within me. I know that sounds awful and wrong. But please understand, I did like you. I did.
Until your tongue was in my mouth. Instead of the world shrinking away, leaving us in our own bubble, the outside came crashing into the moment.
I could feel the breeze on my lower back, the bench was so hot and burning my thighs, the sun was in my eyes, your hand on the side of my face felt comical, the sounds of the cars in the distance over powered the birdsong, and the glares of the passersby filled my middle with embarrassment.
Listen I know that one bad kiss isn't the right reason to drop someone. You're right. But please listen.
I'm sorry that I didn't tell you sooner, and that I've led you on for weeks now. I wanted to give us another chance. And I did. We walked random streets, exploring little shops, like a couple that had known each other forever, but only you were allowed to choose which ones we entered. We had study dates, with a comfortable silence between us that you kept trying to fill. We went to a hidden away spot that you had found years ago, and hadn't brought anyone to before. But you didn't bring me there to show me the place, or because it had any emotional value like you had led me to believe. No, you brought me there just to make out without interruption.
Every time we meet up, I'm counting up the minutes until it's socially acceptable for me to leave. I'm sorry that the words you tell me that should sound sweet and heartfelt just hit my ear wrong.
I'm sorry that I let you believe there could be something more between us.
You see, I told you that you wouldn't want to hear this. No, I'm not saying that I'm too good for you. I'm not saying that I hate you. No, there is no other guy. No, I didn't go after you for the thrill of the chase.
Please stop trying to convince me that I can force myself to feel that for you.
I want to go along innocently and
Maybe forget that I've heard all these words before from other
At least you're different in a way that
Truly matters. But I'm afraid I'm just looking to be
Understood. And we
Really barely know each other...
Except it feels so right to be with you;
no matter how immature that sounds.
Bleach. Shaken, not stirred.
You dragged me to the edges of myself,
got high off the pure bliss
of gutting me.
From the inside out.
hours of dry heaving
tells me there's nothing left
of my insides.
You've thoroughly cleaned me out.
Yet. I still feel it.
The ghost of you
leaving behind traces of an unwanted
war. between us.
I stare at my stained clothes
at the bleach sitting beside them.
And my entire being leans towards it.
To be clean once more.
She Carries the World
She cradles the deserts, scorch marks and blisters paint her arms.
She cries out the oceans, her eyes unseeing from the salt.
She holds the forests in her palms, tree roots piercing skin and bones.
She breathes the wind, gasping wails of pain.
She bears the mountains on her shoulders, bones crushing under solid rock.
She wears the sun upon her head, her hair catching fire.
She supports the ice in her middle, her heart frozen over within her ribcage.
She leaps from star to star, her bare feet cut and bruised from foriegn cliffs.
I Just Want to Tell
I'm a smile ready to burst,
A flower ready to bud.
But nobody even asks,
Why I'm jumping on my toes,
Trying not to squeal,
Tapping the excitement out of my fingers,
Or twisting my hair into incurable knots.
I want to shout my happiness to the world,
But nobody asks,
They're too busy,
Posting pictures of themselves on the internet,
Breezing through life without a care.