#reality subtext

She's androphobic A certain hashtag Wasn't helping that

She knew it wasn't all men She didn't shriek in terror When they approached

She just acted with A mix of civility and caution Thinking about

How things could go If the one approaching her Were either a shrike or a snake

She remembered the ones Who did everything right And still didn't make it out

Unscathed

Beaten, violated, or worse Just for saying "No"

She was a more fortunate one But luck doesn't always last And she knew this

In a world of snakes and shrikes, She was but a mouse, prey She knew not all of them

Were going to hurt her

But she couldn't take a chance As she didn't know Which ones would make her

“The Past Two Weeks”

At times, she observes things Mostly in fleeting moments

Though her fingers hurt, she made a note An observation of how lovely The snow looked

She would muse on this Certainly, being a winter's child Though, for reasons she couldn't identify

"If you were given 12 cupcakes but 4 are poisoned, would you still eat them?"

She was using a metaphor To better explain a viewpoint

Not all of the cupcakes would be poisoned But she knew that 4 out of 12 is enough of them Enough of them

To make someone hesitate

No, she'd treat them all as dangerous Any rational person would, after all, Four times three equals 12

And who'd want to chance that?

She knew not all of them would hurt her But, however, she'd be damned if she took a chance No, she had to fixate

On how to best survive a scenario

Not all of them will hurt her But there's enough of them Who will pounce on her

It was her natal day And she hasn't felt happy No, not at all

No, she was melancholic and in pain There is nothing about today worth celebrating

In the days, leading up to it She felt melancholic

On her natal day, she stopped pretending Only three things went right

Her father prattled on about his feelings And Grandmother wasn't helpful Only few remembered

And then her heart just broke

Before, she wished to not exist But, today, it seemed she envied the dead Specifcally, the youngest thereof

For a moment, she cursed her mother No, Mother just had to beget living offspring Despite never being deserving of such

She bemoaned that The snow hadn't completely melted Before the heavy rain

She needed new galloshes Her current ones she'd need a crowbar To pry off

She is strange Certainly

She hated rain But she's fond of snow However, she didn't much care

At times, Death felt more like a friend Especially when her heart ached

Perhaps, that’s a way she deals with mortality The inevitability that she’d perish, too Or that a few loved ones

Might pre-decease her

Death popped into her thoughts As her heart ached

She knew it wasn’t her time Even if she’d much rather it be No, there’s a promise

And an agreement

When her heart ached, she preferred To think of Death as a friend

Maybe it lightened up her mood (as only such could)

Or maybe she felt that heartache is worse Than Death coming to take her

Death is there Looming, waiting

There’s still time in her hourglass She didn’t know how much, just that there is An agreement is an agreement

What the Connection Is

She was piecing together a quilt Of bees, sunflowers, and yellow gingham There was a connection there

But she didn't know what it was Just that it was there

Maybe it was by color Or maybe it was because of summer There's a connection

She just doesn't know what it is Still, something about those things fit together Whether it was clear or not

Bees pollinate Sunflowers anchor her memories Gingham calls to mind of picnic blankets

The connection was there But it wasn't clicking Not, at the moment, no