Attempting to Explain Why I am Single(Poem #161)

The number one question on tinder today is: “How in the world is a girl like you single?”

Well boys and girls please sit down as I tell you why:

  1. Swearing isn’t lady like and I don’t give a damn that people fucking think it’s rude.
  2. You would look so much prettier if you just tried a little harder.
  3. My love is like a treasure chest; filled with glistening moments that bring glory, joy and wonder only to be later seen as monitary value to be barged with, tested, and sold to the highest bidder, each piece taken away from me as symbol of my lovers’ triumph over my heart.
  4. “I don’t date short girls”.
  5. May fairytales are more like Grim’s. There is no happily ever after, and I am pretty sure my “Prince Charming” got lost and is too stubborn to ask for directions.
  6. “It’s not you it’s me…”
  7. My body is more like a quest than a home; each knight gets wrapped in the excitement of saying they have slain the dragon but never knowing what to do with the princess after that; the crown didn’t fit my head right and I don’t fit into the kingdom quite right…maybe I was better off with the dragon
  8. Omg you like girls too that is so hot we should totally….ehhh stop there do not pass go do not collect two hundred dollars, that is not how this game work.
  9. I’m not the type of girl that people fall in love with. I am the paper town meant to be burned down by men with matches. I pride myself on provide warmth and love by sacrificing my heart to the hollowness of bones. Creating graveyards of memories, where all ex’s are followed by “oooohh”‘s
  10. “We’re sorry the number you have dialed is no longer in service or has been disconnected. Please hang up and try again”

A letter to my lonely lover(Poem #157)

A letter to my lonely lover,

Warning,

this is not a love letter you will grin at as you read it like a poem each night…

No this is a letter of precaution,

Because I can only lay my head on the collarbone of your broken heart,

Attempt to hear the melody behind mismatched breathing.

I can not hear the way your breaths playing against your ribs like wind-chimes echoing the emptiness that is inside you,

No I can not hear that.

I can not feel the clattering of bones beneath me shaking at their own loneliness.

Nor understand that the reason you twitch right before you fall asleep is because your body  needs to remind you that you are more than a skeleton waiting to rot.

Laying here I don’t see any of that…

I understand what it feels like to have every ounce of your soul ache for intimacy,

But can not seem to grasp it or find it in this world.

Because we locked our hearts away in our rib cage,

and then threw away the key….

It’s not like we don’t know where the key is,

We do,

We memorized the seconds between bounces and exactly where it landed.

But out of sight equals out of mind,

And I can finally pretend that my heart isn’t resting on the bottom of my stomach,

crying out to be fixed like a broken birds wing.

No!

I will not feel that,

and neither will you…

So we try to find comfort in moments that will only land milliseconds in our brains,

And sleep in god knows how many other people’s beds because we have forgotten why it felt right to sleep alone…

But it’s not that we don’t feel it,

We do,

But we pretend that we don’t feel it,

We want to feel like we are a whole person laying beside yet another one night stand,

and that is it!

But when we wake up in the morning,

your face won’t give me comfort,

and I will look in the mirror to see exactly who I was yesterday staring back at me,

I want to punch the glass so that I bleed,

because bleeding makes sense,

that is what happens when you are hurt,

you bleed and you scar…

But not when it’s your heart.

Instead my eyes they bleed tears…and tears dry,

And it’s hard to explain why your hurting when what your body is bleeding in misery is only visible to you…

So I will crawl back in bed with you,

I will kiss you on the lips,

Say I had a good time,

Rest my head again on your chest pretending that the heartbeat I hear is simply that…

Just a heart beat…

Because if I read too much into it then I know I will do something stupid,

like kiss you again, but this time it will be different because it will mean something,

because for that millisecond my heart will drop a feather outside my ribcage reminding me that I can still feel.

But I don’t want that.

I would rather live in the graveyard of my hollow chest,

then give you the power to send my heart back to hell!

That’s the scary thing about laying next to a broken lover…

They make you realize how broken YOU truly are…

Home (Poem #156)

I got told by my father today that my sexuality wasn’t natural and was immoral,

My mother laughed at the idea that it even exists,

I’ve never felt so alone and judged. 

Yet they wonder why I am tentative to show them how I feel,

But how am I supposed to act when the walls I called home are filled with wondering eyes,

When I can’t be half the person I am in fear that you will only see me as that and nothing more,

How am I supposed to act when your house no longer feels like home,

Because people like me,

We aren’t welcome here. 

Mom and dad

I would go home more of you really understood,

But I can’t. 

My friends now don’t understand,

How I can label myself as one way yet say I have never dated someone of the same sex,

That I have never laid my hands on a women,

No they don’t get it. 

It’s not that I haven’t considered it or don’t want to,

It’s because I can’t. 

Mom and dad,

I want to feel at home again,

But I can’t,

I don’t want to walk in the door with my girlfriend and simply have to call her my friend,

I want to hold her hand and tell you

How she is beautiful,

That she lights up my skies in a way that would make the stars jealous,

That her laugh is more beautiful than the apple blossoms that bloom in spring,

And that in her arms I feel more secure than when I have stood in my own home.

I want to do that,

But I won’t.

I fear the response,

And your ignorance.

No I am not with her because I have been hurt by men!

No this is not some phase I will grow out of!

No she isn’t some experimental toy I have because I am in college!

No she is not just some girl!

She is strong,

She is beautiful,

And she is mine!

She knows more of me than you ever will,

Because she can see past the stigma of a title.

So I am sorry mom and dad,

But there is a chance that another girl or boy or ze will take the place of what you tried to call my home,

Because they don’t make me live in a house of glass,

And they finally succeeded in make me feel less alone. 

The reality of the “perfect man”(Poem #153)

I’m tired of boys telling me I’m worth it,

When they only walk away.

Because you were the 13th boy to lay hands on me,

with little to no intention to stay.

I guess I should be used to it,

hearing those ringing words,

“You deserve the world!”

Yet the world fell at your hands

Because even though you say I am worth it,

I still feel second hand.

like the canvas you laid paint on,

but you wish you never had,

because the picture that we painted,

though it truly wasn’t bad,

didn’t quite breath perfection to your life.

No the image was all too real,

not like the fairytales that I had waited so long for.

No my canvas has been broken, and ripped, and torn.

My edges are all rough, no longer soft and smooth.

So stop telling me I’m worth it,

that the perfect man exists…

Because the perfect man wants a new canvas,

not one he has to fix…

The love we deserve (poem #145)

Love…

Four simple letters,

One rhythmic word.

I yearn for it’s overwhelming weakness.

Desire so much to have it.

But I am tired,

Tired of the people who say they will never hurt me being the ones who only want to be my friends,

And the ones who are willing to hurt me be the ones who invite my heart to fall in love with them.

I know now that I deserve better,

But I guess this is life’s way of showing me the love I deserve.