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)

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analysis of self.

I don’t recognize myself anymore,

who is this girl?

I never look her in the eyes

or tears will ruin her perfect facade

of foundation and mascara

and then everyone will know.

 

people say, “I love you.”

people say, “you’re not alone.”

but I feel alone

when they hug me, I feel numb

as if I was static on the television

as if I was peering in from the window

 

24 hours of misery

sometimes a break in between.

I’m lying because I’m so accustomed

to keeping my feelings to myself.

I hardly cry, instead I bleed

I hardly try anymore.

 

and, I’m scared to be happy

because I know what’s like to have it stolen

and, I’m scared of what people think

because I know what’s it like to be rejected

and, I’m not scared to die

because I’m so damn tired of fighting myself.

 

 

 

 

Dear Someone XXXII

Dear Someone,

He told me he could protect me.

I looked him in the eyes, and said, “No thank you, I am capable of protecting myself.”

Because, just because I’m a woman, doesn’t mean I’m weak.

Just because I’m a woman, doesn’t mean I’m looking for a protector.

You show them you’re not scared. You show them you are not a girl, but a strong, independent woman.

You show them you aren’t dependent on other people to save you.

Because, just because you wear dresses, doesn’t mean you can’t knock the breath out of someone.

And, sometimes boys tell me I’m mean. No. I am guarded, I am cautious, I am ready to leave, and that’s because men haven’t proved to me they are worthy of my trust.

Love,

Liv

Dear Someone XVI

Dear Someone,

 

I am feminist.

not because I hate men

or I think we deserve better than them

 

but because

I want to see my daughter thrive

and not crumble before 16

 

to walk with her head high and not in fear

because someone might hurt her

like I have for years

 

to not be ashamed of her body

because some boy told her she should be skinny

like I have for years

 

to stop dreaming

because someone told her it was impossible

like I have for years

 

I want her to be free

and to look into her eyes and be proud of her decisions

like I wish my mother would look at me

 

and those boys will say,

“her beauty is pure, because of her strong-will,”

like I wish they would’ve believed about me.

 

Love,

Liv

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mommy, You’re Everything

Mommy,

You’re a taxi driver, encourager, a chef, teacher, dancing queen (when it comes to 80’s music of course.) You understand my dreams and you push me harder to become the woman God wants me to be.

You’ve taught me everything I know, how to love, work, laugh, read, write, cook, and of course, how to handle my life.

You’ve shared with me everything you know, life lessons that make me cringe or cry or laugh, you’ve shared the best music ever, you’ve given me countless advice on guys and how to deal with their personalities, but most importantly, you’ve shared and showed me how God has made such an impact on your life, and how much he’s changed you.

There are times where I’ve told you things that are hateful and hurt your feelings; because I forget the Iron Woman, who is my mom, has feelings too. And though, it looks like I mean those things, I really don’t. I regret all of them every single time I say them.

All the cards, sayings, smiles, laughs we’ve had, they’re in my heart (and the cards are in my special memory drawer.)

I know one day, I’m going to wake up far away from home, and I’ll miss you. But at least you’ll answer my constant phone calls asking for advice or just fashion tips.

Mommy, you’re everything I need. Now, later, and even when you’re dead and gone, you’ll be everything to me.

Thank you for loving me unconditionally through everything.

Love,

Your not very perfect daughter