And young girls walk in groups I stand against the bathroom wall It's so strange feeling older As your surroundings grow younger. I've stopped being attached to things People stay near me But their minds can't bear me. And friends in Okemos are the trickiest thing You're either stuck with ones so truthful it's smarting Or the ones two-faced to where your stomach feels cold. I guess right now I'll protect myself with stanzas. Why should I trust anyone besides myself anyways? I gave my life to someone That hurt me so deeply I felt a rage unprecedented to date. It doesn't really matter anymore He's still making the same idiotic face in every picture And I'm changing. Change isn't bad It's only bad when you outgrow your hometown One more year here I'm growing too fast the walls keep shrinking Okemos why aren't you growing with me? Why must I endure your simplistic suburban streets When I am meant for those lights Lights in dorms hanging in girls' rooms When I pass by campus? I'm stuck against this wall I'm stuck with truthfully two-faced girls And boys who sold their hearts and minds for sanity Sanity is useless Well, maybe not in Okemos But I have a feeling it's useless everywhere else.
I never understood the resentment
Between past lovers
Until I felt it myself.
It doesn’t matter how many “great times” we had
Because memories can’t dissolve the present.
Memories don’t change the fact
That I stared at my hip bones in the mirror for an hour
Because I lost 7 pounds
When the loss made me too sick to eat
The fact the I screamed
And I screamed
I lay on my carpet screaming
When you pulled out of my driveway for the last time
And I will never forget
The split second where I lost the will to live.
I don’t care about the memories
Memories are in the past
Your betrayal is in the present.
The “good times” don’t matter
Because it’s 11:56 PM
3 and a half weeks after you left
And I’m up writing poems to clear my head
Because I can’t stand one more night falling asleep furious
I can’t stand waking up one more morning
Believing it was all a bad dream
And that you’re asleep on the other side of the bed.
The hardest part was my trust
I trusted you when you said no matter how dark it all felt
You wouldn’t leave me
At least you kept one promise;
“I won’t leave you when you need me most.”
And I’m ok
But after a year of having someone to hold
Having someone make me their first priority
Someone that kissed every scar
I am suddenly left unplugged.
There is a wire
Whether from my head or my heart I’m not sure
But it is dangling
And crackling with electricity.
I don’t need you to plug into
I really don’t
But Jesus Christ,
I need something.
Exciting news! I’ve been published in this month’s edition of FIVE Poetry Magazine! If anyone’s interested, it’s Vol. 2 No. 6, and can be purchased at: http://www.fictionmagazines.com/shop/five-issues/five-poetry-vol-02-no-06/
This is my first publication under my real name, Celeste, and my first paid publication. Thanks to all of my followers for your support!
My personal weight
My little ex,
Remember when I said I hate that word?
I was wrong
I hate the sound of your name more.
You never sang me a serenade,
You blooded my ears with your screams.
I blamed the world for drowning me,
Grasping to you for support,
You kept me afloat, I thought
You weighed me down
Your insecurities disguised as mine
Talking down to me as if I were a child,
I just stood there and took it.
Let you force your opinions down my throat
You made me believe it was my fault:
“I haven’t done anything wrong,” you said
“Keep making me feel like this and I’ll leave,” you threatened.
How was I so blind to your constant shelling of my feelings?
You’re a nuclear warhead
Full of anxiety
Just waiting for your next victim
So you can explode on your scapegoat.
You’re so low
I can’t believe I let you drag me down
So I’m on my way back up,
But before I go I’ll leave you with this:
I’m better off without you
You’ll be so sorry someday
And most of all, YOU NEVER DESERVED ME.
That’s the word, isn’t it?
But I’ve got nothin’ to lose
Nothin’ to prove.
Good things come to those who wait, right?
If you love something let it go, right?
This isn’t the waiting generation anymore,
We’re connected through networks
We speed up with every word
The world turns a little faster every day.
I’ve no time for waiting
That’s what conjunctions and abbreviations are for.
I’m treating Monday mornings like Friday nights
And I’m living in the moment
They tell me to give it time
And have patience
But rebellion is all the rage
Content is what comes to those who wait
To be content is to be complacent
And who ever knew the Girl of Change to be complacent?
I’m capitalizing my name now
And putting “Risk” in the middle of it.
Good things come to those who wait
Great things come to those who fight.
We all talk about wisdom
Like it comes from sitting beside a tree
Wisdom comes from battle
Maybe that’s unwise of me to say,
But I won’t know for sure until I try.
It’s death to the girl at the end of the serenade,
What’s born is something better.
“If I die, the sun will come up tomorrow and the moon and stars will still come out at night, so why not?”
Because I am stronger than the heartbreak my ex left me with
Because I am bigger than the shallow drama that insecure girls spit at me
Because I have more intellect than the bitter cold February air
Because my personality is warmer than the August sun
Because I can sing a serenade to myself just as well as he could
Because despite his anagapesis, he cannot hurt me anymore
Because I am more than the names on the list of those who succeeded when I failed
Because I don’t need anyone’s love but my own to complete me
Because I am more compassionate than the cool metal of the train tracks
Because I’ve taken my pocket knife back, and I carry it with dignity
Because I am ten times more important than the moonlight
Because I am strong
Because I can fend for myself
Because I have grown
Because I am confident
I refuse to romanticize the image of my loved ones gathered around a dirt hole where my rotting corpse has been placed.
Because I refuse to give up on them
And I refuse to give up on myself.
I have written 200 poems
And not a single one of them
Is solely about myself.
I was too involved
With the music of others
And yet at the end of the serenade,
I lie alone.
And my late night thoughts
Stopped plunging into tender kisses
For the first time in my life
I am losing my obsession with beautiful people-
I can feel the shift in my heart.
And cordiform bruises remain
But weeks or months or years from now
My scars will fade
And stop leaving such a bitter taste.
It’s a certain kind of syncopation
I’ve been so lost in staying on expected beats
That I forgot to look in between.
Maybe I’m not a flower
Maybe I won’t grow into something beautiful
But I refuse to be something ordinary.
I hate the word ex.
It sounds like nails on a chalkboard
Permanently scratching out what was once written,
Leaving jagged lines over perfect calligraphy.
It describes streaks of blood
Sharp cuts over the softest skin,
But that can’t be right.
There is no blood for me-
A small cordiform bruise
The rests just above my left breast.
It’s a bruise, if left untouched, that causes me no pain
It formed on a sunny day, on the 1st of July
It’s shape leaves warm memories.
To press it brings a dull thud
Pain that shoots to my heart.
I do not fear it,
It’s the same pain that comes
When you let you hair down after a long day,
A steady headache
But one that brings relief.
How can a single word represent that?
What once was
How it used to be
My past love
But it could not be ex.
There is hatred in ex.
And who could hate summer warmth
On the 1st of July?
So deeply I crave to travel the opaque forest
That thrives in my head.
I hold an entire world in the folds of my mind
But I stay in a single city.
I fear if I aim for confidence in New York City
I shall fall flat in Harlem.
I spent a year in Paris
Until the lights of the Eiffel Tower turned off for good,
The City of Love didn’t look so lovely without them.
Urban sounds and smells call me to Dubai
And I can see a party on the horizon
But drinks and dresses aren’t as appealing as Austria-
To Vienna and to Salzburg
Where I can sit in a quaint little coffee shop
And be with my thoughts or a good book for awhile.
But even the best books come to an end,
And my thoughts still feel incomplete.
I reside in New Orleans
Trumpets and saxophones vibrate without pause.
A feeling that needs no words,
And a feeling words could never describe.
Bitter silence creeps up my neck
I am headed to Moscow
And biting terror
Warns that I may never leave-
And so I have stayed
In the little city in my conscious mind,
It’s my own private island
No countries, states, or borders
And more neutral than Switzerland.
But yet I bleed for Paris
So I close my eyes
And aim for New York City.
Hello lovely readers,
Recently, my time has been cut short do to school and other things, so I’m taking a short break from blogging so I can reorganize. Hopefully I’ll be back in a week or so. Thank you to all of my silent and active readers, every view means so much to me.
Hope to see you all soon!