He should have turned eighteen (and nineteen and twenty) but somewhere along the lines he placed a roadblock in that path and his mentality slammed head-first into that stubborn wall. He refused to change because if
we were seventeen
when you promised me that
this tiny dustbowl of
a southern town was not going to be
everything my life was made of.
it wasn't hard to believe
because the maps you'd spread across
your ceiling never lied (since you claimed
it was easier to dream when they
were stuck above you
in the night).
i remember the lines you'd drawn
in a felt pen, red because it seemed important,
seemed louder than the rest, and
i remember how you
would trace the roads with your eyes until you
fell asleep. you had a knack for
memorizing every escape route, and when i asked why
you answered that it was because one day you
would have to run.
when i asked if i could fly away with you
you said yes, and that night i dreamt
of runaways and falling stars. i never was sure
if they were supposed to mean something bigger than us.
sometimes when i lie awake at night
i wonder now how far we might
have gotten if we ever left, if we had jumped into
your old impala and left the road behind us -
times you've woken with a
start, only to realize what
day it is.
In all honesty, you'd rather
have stayed asleep.
cards this year
but not one is from your grandmother
Either she has forgotten you exist again,
[god knows she never liked you,
hopeless, pathetic middle-child
that you are,]
or she is dead.
you really musn't get your hopes up.
A prettier sight you'd never seen
Long raven hair, soft pale skin
A heart every man wanted to win
Clear blue eyes, deep as the sea
As gentle a soul as there could ever be
Then one quiet winter's day
She ventured to where she used to play
A forest so thick, not bothered by light
But not too far in she was given a fright
For before her stood a man so strong
His piercing eyes watched her far too long
She turned, a sparrow in flight, too late
He held her fast, told her to wait
He meant no harm, he looked so sweet
And so they agreed from then on they'd meet
Every day they were together in secret
She felt happy to bursting every time they met
A few weeks later, he loved her he said
So with this, alas, they agreed to wed
She wore her mother's antique wedding dress
They were to meet late at night, under moonlight's caress
Poor thing, she waited what seemed like forever
But her love would soon complete his wicked endeavour
She sees only a shadow before it all goes
old at sixteen,
I was able
to breathe in his
and expired aftershave.
After three weeks,
he was a part of me
I needed to get rid of.
So I let him die
because if I had let him
live I would have
sixteen was me learning to stand on bruised feet bleeding heels metaphorical limping as i looked through your windows, it meant opening my eyes and thinking and having conversations at midnight and writing enough poetry to consume anyone’s life, it meant loving and hurting and healing, stitches tearing and barely breathing
sixteen was this. me facing insecurities and giving them the finger one by one, telling this girl that i liked her and i’d like to love her, sixteen meant falling asleep in a bus with my head on his shoulder, six
the world told me that it was at my feet,
& patiently waited for me to step foot in it
so it could take me as its own.
he told me that the world would
eat me alive
but have faith, he said,
get down on your knees & pray.
i guess god must have low self-esteem.
eighteen taught me
that love couldn't conquer all,
despite the faith it demanded
trust was wearing thin,
just like his excuses,
& i didn't know my role
in a world made for those
who knew their place.
when i was nineteen,
the future escaped me
& the present was a gift
that i did not ask for.
i was drained, exhausted,
& secluded in a cave
constructed from the remains of myself
that i salvaged from the world.
it was no wonder i was empty.
time was running out.
the book i was blindly writing
made little sense, & i was reading
braille on the skin of others.
the sand that weighed me down
shifted, until the glass cracked.
i guess time ran out.
twenty-one was rebirth,
i don't want to hear how
i just want to hear that
you miss me too
but maybe i'm lying to myself.
and maybe i'm jealous because another
girl can be there for you.
maybe i'm broken, useless and used up.
maybe i've never been any good for you.
maybe i should just move on.
MAYBE I SHOULD SCREAM SO YOU COULD HEAR ME.
because whispering never worked.
i'm lost and your feet were always planted so
firmly you could never run away with me.
i'm angry and you can't hear it anymore.
the tears on my face are real but
the cold in my heart cracks like
He seemed broken-hearted, something within him. But that moment, when I first laid eyes on him, all alone on the edge of seventeen.
Their town was a small one, located high on a mountaintop far from the beaten path. The people who lived there were closer than family ever since the accident. Half of the town had fallen to ruin in the middle of one winter night; collapsing and tumbling into the ravine in an all-consuming avalanche. Luckily no one was hurt, but there was a gaping hole that turned 17th street into a dead-end, leading to a menacing cliff. No one was allowed over there because of the unsafe footing. One wrong step could send anyone to a gruesome end. The streetlamps illuminated the small footpath bordering the 17th street as a small figure headed toward the drop-off. ____, a young girl who dreamed of bigger things than a small mountain town, headed for her favorite spot. She liked to sit under the last stree