my bedroom

 

On the floor I focus on my breathing

all the times I have hyperventilated here

there is no problem so small that it cannot be solved by hey jude

eyes closed

 

the ceiling fan creates shadows that dance across my eyelids

 

my memories my presence destruction

pressed petals in the pages

preservation

 

my bed reminds me that I used to fear my pillow

how many tears did it absorb

this warm comfortable place where

fictional characters bled into my dreams

 

Did I give the life to this place it used to breathe so vividly

I wrote my secrets into the walls and trusted them to understand

 

paint is paint is layers of gray and only I know of the blue underneath

 

I have moved on and had firsts elsewhere

 

thank you

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today is a day to put on a hat

today is a day to put on a hat

no smile, no nod, no small talk – fuck that

today is a day to be MAD at the world

for making you this utterly unkissable girl

today is a day to think about that moment

when everyone laughed and you felt so alone and

today is a day to revert

wear jeans and sneakers and a movie quote t-shirt

today is a day to feel the spots on your skin

and weirdly wish to be 14 again

when to be insecure was how you were supposed to feel

and money and boys and careers weren’t real

today is a day to protect your dreams

sew yourself up, fix the rips at the seams

today is a day to say fuck that

today is a day to put on a hat

12:30pm at a Starbucks

 

He rotates the Starbucks cup in his hand

“Maggie?” he asks, as on me his eyes land

I nod and I smile, then I take my treat

and turn to go and grab a seat

but “I like your shirt,” he says with a grin

That’s when my imagination takes me for a spin.

We’re sharing a blanket and watching Die Hard

I’m laughing at a funny hand-drawn birthday card

His hand is roaming down to my butt as we kiss

We’re playing pool and teasing each other when we miss

The scene plays out, we’re dancing in the kitchen, only us two

He’s stroking my cheek with his thumb, saying “I love you,”

but I’m pulling away, anxiety ruining the bliss

His voice is cracking angrily, “you always do this”

Cue the Adele and the rain as I’m walking down the street

when I realize this is a mistake I don’t want to repeat

I’m running back to my room, but you’re already there

“I’m sorry,” I say, your hands in my hair

The audience is applauding, they cry that it’s fate

 

“Thanks,” I say, just a little too late.

 

His back is already to me, his hands in the sink

He gets ready to make the next customer’s drink

jiggle

her thighs are white like lightning strikes

just as blinding as the sun

but boy she loves to watch them

jiggle as she runs

her feet stomp like thunder

sending ripples through her skin

that blue ribbon hugs her chest

she jiggles as she wins

via Daily Prompt: Jiggle

scrolling

i think i should’ve dated him but

one new notification from facebook

did i remember to email my professor

that reminds me

what time am i signed up for

how long has it been since i called her

i should make that playlist of friendship-themed

i hope i listened to her and she doesn’t think my silence meant i resent her for

this buzzfeed article about eating healthy will only stress me out so

why am i clicking on it

wonder what my face looks like right now

how come my skin is both oily and dry

i should drink more water

one new email

one new game request

do other people sweat this much

have i checked my grades recently

she looks so happy in this picture

why am i not like

someone tagged you in a picture

i look happy

probably because, for once

i wasn’t scrolling

things i’m sorry for

i’m sorry i stayed up until 2 last night watching MTV instead of sleeping

i’m sorry i said my mom was a bad parent for not calling

i’m sorry i cried after she did

i’m sorry i talk with my hands too much during interviews

i’m sorry i talk too much

i’m sorry i sometimes dislike my friends for being happy

i’m sorry i don’t understand W-4s and direct deposit forms

i’m sorry i don’t know how to use concealer and i don’t own a blazer or dress pants or a car

i’m sorry i think my life would somehow be better if i did

i’m sorry that i talk more about reading than i actually do read

i’m sorry that i’m 18 and i wiped my booger on the wall

i’m sorry i lied

i’m sorry i’m not actually sorry about that

i’m sorry that i glanced at the clock only during your parts of our conversation

i can tell you that coffee isn’t an adequate substitute for sleep

and the Beatles’ last album was Abbey Road

but we still won’t win at trivia

i stole a pen yesterday

i’m sorry about that

Hyperventilation

i imagine that breathing into a paper bag

has the same effect as poetry

exhalation of stress and small sounds

why don’t people write poems that rhyme anymore

i think it’s because they’re harder to write

sometimes i am not confident enough for capital letters

and punctuation feels like a guillotine