Poetry

a symphony of saxophone and jazzy drums plays

for a crowd of men in wide collared shirts and women in boxy dresses

in their hands are drinks

martinis and manhattans 

with glistening ice cubes inside their glasses

I feel like I'm imposing

Which isn't fair for you to do,

It's not fair that you make me feel like I'm on the outside

I hate sitting here, trying to reignite what once was

I thought we we're doing this anymore

on any other day,

i would say my favorite song

is "lemon boy" by cavetown.

it reminds me of

who i am, or rather,

i guess, who i hide behind.

today is different.

i miss summer camp.

i miss the pines

and the deer that hid

among them.

i miss the sunsets,

somehow ever so much

more beautiful

than any of the ones back home.

The past generations make me sick,

you tear loved ones apart and call it protecting the country,

you deport children that don't have any choice on where they live,

no family in the countries you say they "belong to,"

Let me tell you story

A story about a girl

Who had the same longing for adventure

As little Red Riding Hood

And the same urge for freedom

As Rapunzel

Let me tell you a story

About a girl

i can be good.

i won’t ask to be forgiven

for the nature of my narcissism

when i’m the one most affected by it,

living in my own body,

tolerating my own soul.

what if apologizing

i can focus.

i can hone into every texture

and let my skin absorb it all.

if i focus

i won’t despise myself in a matter of envy

i won’t cross my fingers and toes

for everyone i try to love

I'm a poet,

I'm a writer,

I'm a sister.

I'm outrageous,

I'm silly, 

I'm weird.

I'm also not special

I'm not better

or the best

But I want to be.

When I open my window in the morning,

it's the same thing every day.

There's almost never anything new.

And it's kind of boring.

And it's not boring in a good way.

*lines in italics are from Jane Eyre

Are you apprehensive of the new sphere you are about to enter?

Because I fear

For the warm skin

It always seems that 
In the unruly depths of each Alabama winter 
I long for summer 
For campfires and S'mores 
And laughing louder than the cicadas