Feminists Save Women
As a woman, I am ever so grateful
Feminists before me, their hearts so full
Perplexed as to why women weren't treated as humans
Fought for us, to stand beside the man
I fight for and with feminists and approve of their message
Because I simply depend on it
And if I ever have a daughter, I'd want her to grow up being a feminist too.
The Mysterious Lizzi Potts
Lizzi Potts made my day
Lizzi Potts just couldn't stay
Lizzi Potts had me take the bait
Lizzi Potts made me wait
Lizzi Potts knows just who I am
Lizzi Potts rang the alarm
Lizzi Potts teased me till it hurt
Lizzi Potts had me on alert
Lizzi Potts made my day
Lizzi Potts didn't stay
Lizzi Potts used me for her plot
She was beautiful
She was beautiful, too beautiful for her own good.
So beautiful that nobody saw her suffering.
They all just wanted to admire her.
She was an escape.
Something to be enjoyed.
Nobody wanted to see that she had a heart underneath, a heart that hurt, a heart that was shattered.
She was so beautiful that the broken pieces of glass around her only elevated the price of her beauty.
They made her look like a piece of art instead of a human being who needed to vent, who needed other people too and was not only there to fulfill others' needs.
She was too beautiful.
And she fears she will always be too beautiful.
A Cruel Summer Day
The last time I saw her, it was a summer day, the dogs were misbehaving and the sun was cruel on our backs as we walked the park.
She had never looked at me that way before and my heart feared the next words that would escape from her mouth.
"I'm leaving," she said.
I wanted desperately in that moment, to steal her away.
I didn't want to hear the rest.
I wanted to bombard her with our shared memories, make her feel bad about her thoughts, make her feel guilty about wanting to leave this, leave me.
I wanted to whip out my phone and point it at her face and say "see? See all these beautiful pictures? This is us! Together! Beautiful moments that we have shared over the years! Beautiful memories that will make you regret leaving me!"
But I didn't do all that, instead, I sat beside her in the grass as she explained herself, as she told me why she thought this was best for the both of us, and I knew deep down that she was right.
I was holding onto something that had fizzled, something that had run its course. I was allowing us to suffer through it, even though it was fading.
So, I did the wise thing.
I just nodded.
And kissed her one last time.
That was the worst summer day of my life.
I still don't know why I wasn't awakened by screaming, there must have been screaming.
My little sister had a high-pitched tone and when I ran after her as we played around the house, she would always pierce our ears with her loud screeches, but somehow, that morning, she didn't scream. Or maybe, her screams just didn't wake me.
What about mom, dad, did they scream?
I don't know.
All I know is that, I woke up, walked out of my bedroom and started walking on blood.
On blood and skin.
My parents, my sister were blood, guts and skin on the floor. I thought I saw an eyeball but I was so in shock that I tuned out the experience.
I knew my family had been devoured but my feelings were muted because I had woken up to a destroyed world.
I left my house but I was still walking on blood and skin and guts.
The world was devoured.
Once a Delight
She was once a delight, a dream and fantasy.
She was once someone I liked to think I could paint perfectly.
She was someone I once knew but never recognized.
She was once there but disappeared before I even realized.
He told me all about her, hearts in his eyes, a smile with too much teeth on his face.
But I know he sugarcoated the stories to forget his hate.
To help me not to hate.
I was once a delight, a dream, a fantasy,
but now that we've met, her smiles are unpleasant,
her stance impatient,
as if I remind her of her mistakes and pain and tragedies.
She has now come back but I can see that she doesn't want to stay.
Grim lines mars her face, showing me her deep regrets and hate.
Are there about me?
Years and years and years have gone by in a flash, but with her standing there, I feel I've frozen in time.
Regretting another time, I could have known,
could have delighted in, could have grown.
Her unpleasant smile fades. Her grim lines deepen.
Showing me she's a stranger I'll never know.
A stranger I'll never mend.
No, he's not a vampire, although he does sparkle...sometimes, when it's dark.
He told me I was a miracle on earth and that my touch can bring him back to life. I reminded him that I'm the only one who can touch him.
Tonight I'm finally going to try something with him to bring him back.
The only question is; can sex bring a ghost back to life?