(l.m.)

I don’t know how else to say it.

There is no rhetoric for me to skirt around the issue

And to proclaim such a fact in watercolor euphemisms.

I hate the life I’ve been given, and I will forever tiptoe in this house,

Speaking in whispers to not be heard and to go by unnoticed.

Because that is how I was raised, or that is how I was influenced to think that way.

I am not sure, because there will always be two sides of the story,

And one only gets to flip the coin once, and I have been walking around,

With my tail between my legs for the longest time.

It’s me, right? I’ve got it all wrong.

My head’s in a bad place, and my throat’s all torn up.

I don’t know how to say what I really want to say.

I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to be here.

But it’s okay, because nobody here cares enough to listen.

11:27PM

The black wash over the sky makes everything quieter.

The black wash over the sky makes everything but us quieter.

Our breathing is loud; it’s heavy and it’s ragged.

My hands, your hands, and the hands on the clock,

What do they all have in common?

They circle and they roam and they go around.

Your skin goes tick, and mine fills in the tock.

We do our thing, and time does its own.

11:48PM

Twenty-seven minutes and sixteen seconds.

That was all it really took to beat around the bush

Before we start beating ourselves off for taking so long

Twenty-seven minutes too long, sixteen seconds too much

My hands move on their own, and they start from the top.

A thumb caresses a cheek, and a forefinger slides into an open mouth.

When my fingers run through the arch of your back,

I am reminded of the crescent moon washed in black.

12:03AM

The sheets have gotten wet—amongst other things

And when we move, we no longer grind against each other

When we move, our bodies slide together

It is a dance of two, a duet where we sing

And each thrust brings out another note

One that’s either too sharp or too low

But by the gods, it has honestly been

The most melodious thing to have ever reached me.

12:14AM

All I could think about was this—

My lips on a road from your throat to your chest

And from your chest to your thighs

Until I reach the intersection between them.

All I could think about was this—

How your body responds to each lick, each kiss,

How my tongue is in charge, and your body the prisoner

You pull my hair, and I go deeper.

12:32AM

The line of your jaw is familiar

How it connects to your neck to your shoulders

Firm and strong and lean and irresistible

Where I kiss and bite and mark something irreversible

A kind of imprint that means I was here,

And I want to always be here, With you always there.

These are my thoughts as you bring me to the edge.

I wonder what’s yours when I bring you there?

12:39AM

The black wash over the sky makes everything quieter.

The black wash over the sky makes everything but us quieter.

Our breathing is loud; it’s heavy and it’s ragged.

You lie down on the mattress, stomach down, hair a mess

And I lie beside you facing the ceiling with your hand on my chest

We are overcome by exhaustion and sleep

Even so I muster the energy to roll over,

So it is your face that I fall asleep to in this place.

3:14AM

I never can exactly know with you

Because you always do whatever it is you want to do.

The black wash is still over the sky,

And everything is still as quiet as we left it.

Except now beside me are cold sheets, sheets empty of you.

I almost feel a panic rise in me, only something else makes its way in me.

I look down at where it came from,

And a familiar head rises from beneath the blanket,

A sound escapes my lips just before they form a smile.

We do our thing, and time, 

well, time does its own.

today at school, i did so well

all of my professors praised me,

all of my classmates envied me,

and there’s a boy who promised to love me

there’s something i want to tell you

if you’ve got the time, if you’ve got the concern,

if you ever wanted to know,

how you’re daughter’s doing

how you’re daughter’s coping

i never had a penny

not a single one to pay for your thoughts

but you gave them to me for free

i’ve got a lot to say too, but you haven’t the time

and you wouldn’t want to waste a single dime

(at least not on me)

i can’t even finish this poem because  

each time you speak to me, 

a good thirteen lines of poetry 

are sucked out of me

because of who i am, because i can’t help who i am

i know it’s because i’m his daughter

and to top it all off, i’m me, i’m this

but mother, there’s something i want to tell you

in case you forgot, because you always do forget

that i’m your daughter too

(l.m.)

i’m going to tell you what happens

when you’re born in the wrong time

when you find your soul tip-toeing

on the precipice of “I don’t belong here”

one side a chasm of anxiety and stress

the other something a little less certain

but both surely just as unsafe

and so this is what happens

when you’re born too late

when they leave you to man the ship on your own

while the winds take you in the wrong direction

the next step is contemplation

would it be better to dive into the deep unknown

or just simply let the winds have their way

this is what happens

when your mind works for a different time

you don’t grow up understood

you don’t grow up as you should

you grow up shamed and inhibited and ridiculed

and you have to defend yourself that no, a screw isn’t loose

the engines just work on a different boost

and so this is what happens

when the world is off on your case

when you and that deadline are on an endless chase

and the clock on the wall just makes it all worse

wondering which choices in your life brought you this terrible curse

and as that fifth cup of coffee slides down your throat

you’re not even entirely sure what this is all worth

but let me tell you what your soul is worth

worth more than the grades that don’t lose sleep,

more than all of those essays that don’t skip any meals,

worth more than that professor hell bent to see you fail

just like the ones who base your worth off of a scale,

a line from point 1 to 5 that seems more like a jail

a 1.0 means okay, you get to sleep, while a 5.0 traps you in shame.

there is not much consolation in failure, i know

but this world will never let you be a one-man show

you see, this is what happens

when our education system seems to take us for granted

we are all just far too misguided

our minds spending so much time working sideways

what about our souls that haven’t taken a breath in days

this is what happens

when you accept the way things are

your words find not an exit but a grave

as you resign yourself into quiescence

when you accept the way things are

all that becomes of you

is a disquiet presence

you trudge through life in a daze,

wondering when the fuck you’ll get out of this cage

and it’s funny cause you used to say the same thing

back when you were a child as you cried yourself to sleep,

back when the dreams you had for yourself started looking too steep

and what the fuck, you’re not even sure if this is really what you want,

but who cares if at least it’ll stop your parents’ taunts

this is what happens

when you’re born in the wrong time

when you find your soul tip-toeing

on the precipice of “I don’t belong here”

i know it’s different from how things used to be

i know it’s different from how things will be

the coffee honestly tasted better back then

and people used to have a sense of fashion and modesty

but to get from here to there offers no shortcut

no fast forward, time skip, and strictly buts

the world deceives as if it’s a timeline of tradition

and you end up getting caught in this web of manipulation

all that’s left is a struggle to lift an arm

to kick a leg, rip it to shreds

all that’s left is a struggle to escape

to leave and walk away before they close the gate

before the world closes, before the world closes you

don’t let the world close you

this may not have been your time

your soul might have gotten off the wrong platform

or simply boarded an entirely different train

you might have woken up a century too early or too late

but this is your life

this is your life and you need to understand

that you own this world

just as much

as it owns you