waterlogged.

salt water stains on my shirt
trickling down my cheeks
an angel with blonde hair
and a red dress
calmed me, rinsed
my face with cold water
now no one will know,
she said with a sad smile.

I live in yellow tiled floors
lemon, lavender scented
stalls with a seat for one
girls whisper their secrets here
in my kingdom of stifled sobs
sink water
fake smiles
(I imitate my blonde angel’s)

I watched a little girl cry
gloomily, I rinse her face
now no one will know
I whisper; she goes on
I was her caramel angel
but I wasn’t an angel
my halo was flushed away
my wings are saturated

sometime long ago
a blonde girl was trained
to hide her feelings
and I wonder why she cried
why I cry
why the little girls cries
and why we try to
wash it down the sink.

we weren’t angels,
so fallen, so waterlogged
we couldn’t even reassure
someone they were alright
because we weren’t alright
all along we were demons
who hid on yellow tiles floors
that smelled of bleach
(we should’ve licked it up)

Dear Someone XXXVI

Dear Someone,

I want a new main character in young adult fiction.

One who doesn’t fall in love.

One who deals with bullies, and the worst bully is herself.

She tries to be everything everyone wants her to be, and crumbles more and more ever day.

You see it throughout the book. Her thought process.

She starts on top. Yet–page by page, negative connotations and anxiety, take you on the journey of her mind.

And, by the end she’s sitting in the ruins of her life.

She wonders how she got her, and she wants to blame everyone else.

But–you know.

It was her.

Love,

Liv

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

i miss you (who you used to be)

i miss you

the girl you used to be

sure, you weren’t a size two

but you didn’t

count calories and frown

at your waistline

 

i miss the girl

who burned brightly

but they let it get

out of control

now you’re a wild-fire

setting everything else ablaze

 

you call yourself a rebel

but darling

it’s been done before

your anarchy is killing you

you’re a wisp of the girl i knew

and it breaks my heart

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

defined.

we so inclined to

hate, discriminate, hurt,

we classify

religion, race, status,

gender, wealth, age

stop rallying into one place

everyone belongs together

everyone deserves love

everyone is special;

equal

what you believe,

where you come from,

who you are,

what you will become,

doesn’t change the fact

you are alive

doesn’t change the fact,

you are a human being

accept your differences

even if no one else will

hold your head high

don’t stoop to their level

don’t hate them for being

fickle and naïve

love them

that’ll turn their heads more

i love you as you are,

and one day, maybe

the world will too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

mind lost.

we lost our minds;

derailed and demented.

you’re still looking for yours.

i wish i could tell you where it was.

they’ve drugged mine.

to relieve the pain.

 

the peanut gallery is getting bold

whispering louder than ever

doesn’t it make you feel insane?

they’ve lost their hearts

ripped them out and filled the void

with gold and pleasure

 

don’t smash the mirror

because they criticize you

you at least have a heart

understand human emotions

sure, you lost your mind

but you can find it again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

no one cared then, & everyone cares now.

i told people. i told a lot of people.

and, they told me that this would pass.

that i was complaining.

so,

i shut up.

i hid it in journals.

i became reclusive.

you never say anything anymore.

tell me what’s going on…

no.

because, all i got was,

dramatic. you’re just trying to weird. that’s just you being shy.

and,

now it’s too late, isn’t it?

you should’ve all listened.

i was struggling. i was hurting. i was confused.

no one cared then.

i don’t need your sympathy now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

gas station girl.

navy blue skies
filled with ashy clouds
threatening rain
humid air;
it’s clammy hands
grabbing at her skin

thriving on
Arizona teas
and gas station
florescent lights
driving around in the
beat up car

trying to get her to
pay him mind
he told her
pretty wasn’t everything
but by god,
it was something

because, pretty
is what you think of
on long nights
what you hold onto
substance of body
over substance of mind

she laughed
because, her mind is
over stimulated
and her worn body roams
from gas station to gas station,
her face set in a frown

married to the air
and the sky
married to a feeling
of freedom
to this car
not to his smoking silhouette