*
under all
the horse bells
cat calls and
bell boy
whistles
I'm a sham
a showman
like every
yes ma'am
I am
a rope
beneath
the cultural
yoke
something
like a public
joke in private
cloaked
a bunch of cells
beneath the
skin
whose locks
were picked
until the pick
is broke
along with
the string
that fells
in final stroke
...the hand
will no doubt
draw back
another line
beneath
in due time
*
I'm still
changing
my figurative
mind
05.28.20
Guess my age
I am the girl
sitting in the cafe
sipping a black coffee and
eating a scone
texting her lover
writing some poems
What you don’t know is
I am sitting so that I am not
across from anyone
so I don’t have to make
eye contact
What you don’t know is
I am drinking black coffee
to cut calories (lattes are
always better)
(but then again, you have to make
eye contact
with the barista...)
What you don’t know is
I am eating a scone because
I haven’t eaten in three days
and this one has blueberries in it
so it counts as fruit salad, right?
What you don’t know is
I am texting a guy
who could not care
less about me
and the less I describe
our relationship
the better off
everyone else will be
What you don’t know is
I am writing a series of poems
about a girl named Esther
and I am on part XXXIII
because I am in love with her
What you don’t know is
this
is
what
you
get
when you put a twenty-seven
year old
white girl
in a cafe.
who I am?
who i am really, will take eternity to find out, no kidding,
but I'll just say a little, not to deep into my soul, but maybe who I am.
i'm a dork
i like reading
and writing,
and movies
and singing songs in the shower.
i'm a girl
who giggles over boys,
habours secret crushes.
i'm a jock.
yes i am
i freaking love softball.
and yes, i love sports
i'm a tomboy,
i always wanna prove that
'whatever you can do, i can do better'
to the boys,
can't do that now 'cause i'm in a girl's school
but i know i can kick their asses.
i'm a sister,
a very annoying one in fact
i'm a realist,
nnothing too positive or negative,
i'll see it as what it is.
i'm a top student,
and i ace in school,
although i hate it.
i'm more street smart than book smart
i'm an artist,
no kidding,
i think i'm pretty good at it.
i'm an over-convident, cocky kid.
i'm a freaking dreamer.
i'm a hopeless romantic.
i'm a prankster.
i'm a teaser.
i'm a bully sometimes.
i'm an awesome friend.
i'm a paranoid little kid.
i'm a planner.
and I wanna be an army commander when i grow up.
yeah, that's me,
Ernaline,
and i'm capable of death
Runaway
I am fifteen
Days away from maturity
Wishes of the big screen
Wandering the streets of the lost
I am a runner
The opportunity comes often
I pack up my things
And hide away
From what, you ask?
Anything
I am a coward
It is not fear that makes me one
It is not my lack of bravery
It is that rather than being somewhere
That I may call home
I’d rather run
I am a thinker
No fight or flight mode activated
It is almost an instinct now
I’d rather be anywhere but here
For absolutely no reason
I am a loner
Rather than being in the company
Of the ones who love me most
I shut them out for good
And do what I do best
I am a heartbreaker
Though I do not chase boys
And tell them it’s over
I see the looks
In my parents eyes
When I pack my bags once more
And bolt for the door
I am a child
Not as mature as I seem
I present myself well
If not to impress,
It’s to make my get-away.
You fooled them
Fake smiles
And I don’t knows
Drip from her lips
Deep in thought
She sits atop an ocean
Hoping not to fall in
Maybe if she breaks the mirror
Her fears will all dip
Or maybe they’ll just claw at her skin
Until to her bones they rip
Smiling now she takes a bow
And the curtains come to close
A girl that the world thought had it all
Is gone, yet only god knows
simply
i'm a writer.
i'm addicted to plot twists and clashing metaphors and the arc of a character. i'd follow the path to the ends of hell or the start of heaven. prose and poems are my oxygen and i exhale cliches and inter monologues. and it's easy. it's so easy to drown in ficitonal worlds, in the endless possibilities. to create and create and get lost and neevr look back. it's like breathing, falling in love, crying. staying away results in needing more.
but simply, i'm a writer.
Middle Name - INSECURE.
Hey there,
Not there...Here.
Nope, further down in the back.
Further...ffffuuurrttthher.
Yep, that's me in the corner with my head bent in seeming concentration while my thoughts highlight every point where I’ve gone wrong in the past five minutes. I’m not vocal enough, I’m not funny enough, I'm not friendly enough, I’m not interesting enough. I’m just not enough and I can’t find a way to turn off the broken record playing in my mind.
Don't look too closely though, I may start wondering about my appearance; are my facial features proportional to my face - there has always been something odd about my eyes, ears, chin, eyebrows...most of me? Did I walk out in the right outfit - I've always loved these jeans but maybe they are an eyesore to the public? Is my hair looking right even though I've slaved on it for hours - one more round of combing can't hurt?
Be ready to sustain the conversation and deal with long bouts of silence. I promise you, it's not you. It's me. I keep swimming in the thought that I'm boring you even when I'm hanging on to every word you say and you seem to be interested in getting to know me Why don't you come with a conversation list to help me along? Frogs? Yeah, I can talk about frogs...they used to croak in my backyard when I was little. Forgive the nervous laugh, I don't really think am funny but I've read that laughter makes you appear warm and friendly. I am warm and friendly even though I don't always appear that way.
I'm going to think about this interaction long after. Did I say the right things? Did you misinterpret something? Did I really have to say that? Can I go back in time and do it all over...just better this time round? Where is the EDIT button in life? We could be best friends, me and said button. I find so many things in my life that need editting. I'm glad I got your contact though, I always look forward to making new friends. When you get to know me, you might like me. I hope? Now why did I say that!
Please ignore the messages that assault your phone. I am constantly in need of reassurance that I am not as forgettable as I believe I am and somehow run off everyone I know...Or do I? I know you are busy and good time is hard to come by for deep meaningful conversation. I thought we are now friends, though. To clarify, we are friends. Right? Why did you hang out with all those people in your picture without me? Don't you like me anymore? I'm not clingy, I am truly not. I just need someone to teach me how to work the MUTE button in my head. There is just as much that I need to mute.
I'm sorry I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Pea Insecure Ches. And I swear I'm working hard at changing that.
Who am I?
I am black pen ink smudged across all ten fingers
I am fuzzy socks and hot chocolate, bundled up and still feeling cold
I am bookshelves overflowing with stacks littering the carpet
I am caring too much about other people while pretending to be a narcissist
I am laughing only in my head because boys used to say they hated how I sound
I am shaking hands and stuttered words
I am flapper dresses and Gatsby, dancing around my problems
I am concealing my insecurities with sarcasm, but doesn’t everybody?
I am writing stories about people I have never met
I am getting my hopes too high, my expectations too grand
I am being let down by forces I don’t understand
I am wandering in a direction I did not chose
I am picking aesthetics and colors for characters that exist only for me
I am starting projects that I don’t finish
I am causing problems I cannot fix
I am metaphors that exist only in my own head
I am stories that I will never share
I am pictures I will never get rid of
I am memories that do not fade
I am people that ran away from me long ago that I still keep around
I am contacts in my phone that I won’t delete
I am someone who would rather make excuses than face criticism
I am a girl who lives through lines on a page, never knowing who I truly am
I am cherry blossom trees and lavender fields fighting for the sun’s affection
I am high ponytails and bubblegum that lost its flavor long ago
I am roses with the thorns cut off that still stab those who touch them
I am staring at the girl in the mirror and hating who she is
I am a choked up heart with nothing left to give
I am sewing needle legs that won't hold me up anymore
I am not knowing what "smiles don't reach her eyes" means yet living it everyday
My Pieces
Who am I you ask
Your guess is as good as mine
Does anyone actually know who they are?
Okay, fine I’ll give it a try…
Who am I?
I am the person in the background,
The one you rarely notice.
I make you laugh with my jokes
If only for a moment.
You come to me with your issues
But never seem to have time for mine.
I’m the person who picks up your pieces
When you’re broken in two.
I put you back together and hold you up high.
You stand on my shoulders
And can touch the sky.
But with each passing day my shoulders grow weak
I start to crumble into pieces
And they blow away with the wind.
But you don’t help me find my pieces
Like I do for you.
Who am I?
You may never truly know,
But you can count on me always
Because who I am is loyal and loving
To all those I hold.