My back aches as I board the bus, my bag weighing heavy with the mark left on my paper that I know my mother will scorn me for. She would be home by now, cooking a meal or tidying an already spotless counter, expecting me to arrive at any moment.

Instead, I get off the bus several stops too early, before the road diverges and takes me home. My friends wave me off, somewhat confused but not enough so to question why.

Around a bend, down an alleyway and up the stairs, there exists a perfect peaceful universe- a dance studio with ever-empty rooms and a manager who allows me to use said rooms for no charge as long as no one else asks to hire them. On the particularly hard days, this is my refuge, my haven from what lies outside.

My school bag is discarded outside the studio lest it serve as a reminder of what I am trying to escape from. The only necessary items are my phone, and a change of clothes which I am soon wearing, with my school uniform roughly shoved into my bag. I spare a brief moment to wave to the manager, alerting her to my presence – she responds with merely a nod and a smile – and quickly retreat into the spare corner room which I have now claimed as my own.

An old sound system is used in this room, one which I once struggled to operate but can now navigate with ease. Music erupts from the speakers, cascading across the room and embracing me with a warm sensation of ease and familiarity that comforts me instantly.

It is as if the music is not in my head but my veins, my muscles, my bones. My body moves of its own accord, matching the beat perfectly, hitting all the right notes.

For the mark on my paper that I worked tirelessly to perfect that tells me I don’t matter.

As the music builds, so do I, my moves exploding with some energy I didn’t know I still possessed.

For my mother, who will see that mark and throw it back in my face and tell me I don’t matter.

I explode across the room in leaps and bounds, and, at least inside my head, it looks elegant and graceful and beautiful.

For the words that follow me in the hallway that say I’m strange or broken and tell me I don’t matter.

The music abruptly softens as the song transitions to the bridge in preparation for the final build up. I pause then, my chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. My reflection stares back at me accusingly.

For the cruel being I see whenever I peer into a mirror who laughs at my failures and cackles at my insecurities and tells me I don’t matter.

The final chorus erupts across the speaker, and I dance until my head spins, until the room spins, until the entire planet spins off its axis. In the final bar, my ankle gives out, and my shoulder collides with the floor. Sharp pain fires through my entire body.

For the ache in my muscles- in my arms, in my legs, in my back- that tells me I am alive, and as long as I am alive, as long as I exist, I matter.

The boy and his sky

During the day when the sky was blue

And the sun shone brightly over a sleepless world

The boy looked up towards the heavens

With his feet firmly planted on the Earth

And he wondered

Just how much nothing

Existed beyond this planet

The boy and his stars

At night, after stars have appeared

Infinite pin-pricks in the thick black of the sky

The boy watched the blinking lights

Laying sprawled across the grass (in his yard)

And he decided

That he would be the one to discover

The nothing that existed beyond Earth

The boy and his invention

Through day and night

Sun setting to unveil stars

The boy worked tirelessly

To create something that would let him see

And he invented

A strange and brilliant thing

That had never existed before

The boy and his telescope

After months of creating, inventing, building

On a night with no clouds to block the stars

The boy positioned his telescope

So it pointed to the unobstructed view of the heavens

And he looked

Up at the infinite black sky

Expecting to find nothing

The boy and his universe

But instead of finding nothing

But an eternal dark sea of sky

The boy discovered stars and planets and galaxies

Billions more pin-pricking the black

And he claimed

These stars and planets and galaxies for himself-

His own personal universe that Earth knew nothing of 

need i remind you

that the statue of liberty-

the universal image of strength,

of freedom,

of independance,

of bravery,

and of power-

is a woman

take me, a blank paper, and cover my skin in your writing

your lines, that form words, that become sentences.

drag your pen across my flesh

so it can be coated in the black ink.

create worlds, create lives, create adventures on my body,

and make me your story.

take me, an empty parchment, and map me out.

trace all my edges and curves with your ink

so that you may take it with you

and learn my outline,

so that you may be able to navigate my body

with your eyes closed.

i caress her cheek

and pull her close

and feel her body

pressed against mine

and

my breaths become shallow

and my cheeks flush pink

and my body trembles

and i call out her name

and

i wish i could tell her

how she makes me quiver

and how she makes scream

and how she makes me feel

so deeply

do not wish for it to stop-

how else would the plants grow?

we always forget to water them

when all the clouds have fled the sky

leave room for the sun to shine-

how else would the plants grow?

the sun is how they make food

so

let your tears fall like the rain outside

the plants will flourish

and the animals will drink

and tomorrow the sun will come out

and i swear

that she could blind the stars

with nothing

but the light in her eyes

her lips are soft as they brush against my ear

her voice dripping thick with honey

whispering sweet nothings

that taste so sickeningly sweet

her fingers are fire

setting my entire being alight

as she drags her freahly manacured nails

up and down my spine

and i get high on the fantasy

breath it, inhale it, live it

aching to know what it feels like

to love a girl

#poetry #toloveagirl #love #secrets