maelynslavik

A ghost of a father.
An angry mother.
A forbidden best friend.
A suppressed love—
A suppressed identity.

Oh, how strange it is to feel alone,
while surrounded by people.

No friends.
Bitter family.

They dine upon marble platters, their feet draped in velvet thread,

While we dwell in the slums, substituting bread with insects instead.

They laugh over champagne, heels clacking on polished stone,

You shape us

physically and mentally

emotionally and metaphorically

you make fun of us

for finding the flaws

the sketchy parts

in your systems

saying

teenagers these days

i desire maniacal creation

to let words flow past my skin and from my heart

till my skin breaks and my bones ache with their force

till my mind is a muddled mess of focus and their intensity

Three strings

each woven from a different material

braided

into one.

That's us

we're all different

but we found ways to wind our hearts together

how to connect with each other.

Funny, the stupid things I remember.

I never remember the important stuff,

Like addresses or birthdays

Or parties or hangouts

Or last names.

But I remember my second grade teacher's dogs were Rachel and Quimby