Dear metaphorical dad,

thanks for being someone I never had

if only you had come to one softball game

I might’ve hit a home run

but here’s to strike outs and walks

I hope that we still won

Dear metaphorical mom,

thanks for never being wrong

if only you had done my laundry late at night

just in time to wear it to school

but here’s to dirty clothes

I hope that kids aren’t cruel

Dear metaphorical me,

thanks for always being mean to- we?

if only you had loved yourself early on

I might’ve made it further than my brain

but here’s to talking to myself

I hope we’re not insane

_________________________________________

#poetry #letter #metaphor

When our hopes are too high

to jump

so we cross the street without looking

both ways

When we own a belt

but there are no rafters

ceiling fans

in our bedrooms

so we loop it through our pants

When we have pills we could gulp down

but they are anti-anxiety

and

after two

we don't feel us anymore

When our hands suddenly recover from

shaking fits

and feel strong enough to tighten around

our necks

but we have to use them to stop our legs

from trembling so quickly

because they make our bodies quake

too hard

before we could even try

When our friends take us home

and smile at us

and we melt

only to hear in the morning

they don't love us after all

When our bodies reject the poison we give them

rebelling against our brains

even though they're part of the issue

We too, spar with our conscious

minds and bodies

and find they are gladiators

unwilling to surrender

to our fear's power

and we still wish they would.

but it's a struggle

we just haven't won

-isn't it fun-

__________________________________________________

#poetry #depression #death

when we were younger

we tossed water balloons

around

on the hot pavement

we weren’t afraid of

popping

their fragile shells

the noise didn’t make us jump

not very much

not the way we do now

when we were younger

we yelled our hopes at the top of our lungs

up high

we weren’t afraid of

having

our hearts broken

the fear didn’t consume us

not very much

the fact that someone might hear us

didn’t bother us (much at all)

when we were younger

we jumped in the pool

into the deep end

we weren’t afraid of

drowning

in the water

the air escaping our lungs didn’t slow

our breath

not very much

when we were younger

________________________________

#poetry #freeverse #youth #growingup

I write

because I can’t speak the way you want me to

I write

because I don’t want to tell the truth

I write

because I can let it all out

I write

because my brain’s too loud

and if I talk it’ll just drown in sound

I write

the feelings down as they hit home

because it’s faster than waiting for you to come

and listen

I write

because I can’t finish

a sentence if I’m crying

I write

when I feel like dying

it calms me down

I write

when I feel like I might drown

I write

when everything is all wrong

I write

when my head is filled with song

I write

when you don’t reach out

I write

when I begin to doubt

everything I’ve done

I write

when I feel like I’m the one

who messed up

I write

when I want to feel tough

I write

when you make me feel small

I write

cause sometimes it makes me feel tall

or bigger than myself

I wrote

because it made me feel free

I know I’ll remain a writer

because that’s someone I’ll always be

_________________________________

#poetry #freeverse #whyiwrite #writing

I died outside in the rain

with only the sky to cry for me

the cold hard drops numbing the pain

I died today on the shore

the waves covering me with salt

I was buried in the ocean floor

________________________________

#poetry #freeverse #loneliness #death

breathing in Delhi. at the crossroads

of airplanes exhausted

and docking ships,

oil on board.

what to expect?

hop into your severe weather shelter

across from the merchants

boasting:

blackwork tattoos

for just one week

as the season changes

the pain will help you sleep

so please keep them clean.

breathing in Delhi. patterns of power

exhausted

and the light gives out,

black voices unite.

what to expect?

sound the alarm.

stay out of the flow of traffic

of aiplanes exhausted

and docking ships,

carrying the sick.

For just one week

sound the alarm -you are here-

electric tattooing

crybabies

in the severe weather shelter

and the lights have already given out.

________________________________

#poetry #freeverse #apocalyptic