survivors.

I think one day,

we’ll sing the anthems from our adolescence

that made us feel alive

when the world was crumbling

and our souls felt like they were drugged

and smile, instead of cry

because we made it…

and I thought for so long we wouldn’t.

 

 

 

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innocence.

Her hands have a slight tremor. “Stop that; I am in control,” she whispers to them. They have words written in pen–smudging on the ends–all over them. People tell her the ink will poison her, and she just laughs.

Her eyes are held open by mascara and cups of coffee. No cream, no sugar, she likes the bitterness.

She hums something under her breath. A song from some distant memory. That Ben Rector song that made her smile and cry at the same time.

She’s been heartbroken, but the broken heart is fixed with a little tape and glitter glue.

Her taste is eclectic; never fit into a box. Her room is littered with pictures of old memories; movie tickets, polaroids, letters, journals, and glass figurines. Her stuffed animals lined up on a shelf, and she kisses their cheeks when their eyes droop.

Maybe, she never grew up. She got taller, wears makeup, smiles when she’s told, strives for better grades, fell for boys, and felt her friends maturing day by day.

But–she would still hug the tree in the front yard, or dance along to her favorite songs when everyone else told her to stop.

She watched the city the other day. She drove her mother around, and she realized how alone she felt now.

So many people were gone; some by choice, and some because life is full of chapters. It seemed the town’s population of kindred spirits dwindled daily.

And, tears blurred her vision as she sped along the highway.

Growing up wasn’t what she always expected it would be…maybe she never would be everything they wanted. Maybe, she would always push boundaries, and always get cut from pushing the envelope too much.

That was alright. And, maybe people would keep leaving, because of college, jobs, and responsibility. And, maybe new people would appear and they’d make unforgettable memories together as well.

So, she still hummed the Ben Rector song, and tapped her trembling fingers to the piano playing in her mind, and tried to think of a time where innocence and happiness were second nature.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

in & out

on key singing;

your voice ringing in my head all week.

car window searching;

it’s your face I look for every time.

 

my favorite songs tells a story;

that I never heard until you came.

everyone tells me the rumors,

that I never heard from you.

 

the city lights shine,

like fallen stars.

I wonder where you are,

in the vast sky.

 

in and out of love;

we got lost before we found each other.

I’m tired of searching for you,

and you’re not even trying.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You See Me Differently

 

You say I’m crazy, untrustworthy, and sensitive.

You say I have too many trust issues, low-self esteem, and bad judgement.

I wish you were wrong, but you’re right…I’m all of those things.

Do you know how many people I’ve let in? Not many. This girl without makeup, that tries not to cry because she’s lonely and trying to not give into the anger that swells inside her soul.

You don’t see the same girl I see in the mirror. You hold my hand, and don’t look at my wrist slashed with scars. You hold me, and don’t see me shudder because intimacy scares me. Your naivety reminds me of the girl I used to be. Before, I remembered things and I let my past hold me down.

Yet–your naiviety frustrates me. You expect too much of me. I try to explain it to you, and you don’t grasp the concept.

Somehow, I’ll get over it, I promise myself on some abandoned road and you’re a thousand miles not even thinking about me.

But, your eyes are the only thing that are constantly are on my mind.

 

 

 

Dear Someone VIII

Dear Someone,

Let’s be honest.

 

When was the last time one of us looked into the mirror and didn’t point out a flaw?

When was the last time you walked alone and didn’t glance nervously behind you?

When was the last time you weren’t harrassed?

Girls, what happened to us?

We grew up. We filled the voids with boys and makeup, and it screwed us up. We tried to make a statement, and the world shot us down.

We are like pliable clay, and society isn’t even pulling us apart or flattening us. No, they’re rolling us so thin; we’re breaking slowly but surely.

And why don’t we stand together? How can we fight the world if we can’t even stop making fun of each other. Stop calling her a ‘slut,’ and give her a hug.  Stop calling them ‘anorexic’ or ‘fat’ and tell them they are beautiful the way they are. Stop calling her ‘goth,’ and show her the cuts on your arms.

After we can unite, then we can take on the society that was made us turn on each other.

That’s all.

Love,

Liv