To my young self.
you are sixteen
and all your clothes are black
your hair pink
you wear your heart in your sleeve
you listen
sad songs as if they were written
for you
as if you had experienced it all
so young
but already know how bitterness
feels like
grief, rejection, loneliness
you feel
so much that cannot be conveyed
with words
and nobody is there anyway
don’t cry
don’t cry my child
just survive
it’ll get better with time
The opposite of love.
I thought we were meant to be
I adored this boy he didn't like me
such a teenage fantasy
I was an outsider and so was him
I already imagined the touch of his lips
I thought we were meant to be
with respect he didn't treat me
but people change, Disney says
such a teenage fantasy
our debates were always shady
was that rudeness or chemistry
I thought we were meant to be
now I see he was a dick
it was him who didn't deserve me
such a teenage fantasy
listen girls, for love you mustn't plead
you will be touched, embraced, kissed
with someone it is meant to be
and it'll be better than a teenage fantasy
Medusa.
they said I'm evil before knowing my tale
come on, judge me if that's what you desire
my hair of vulnerable snakes is made
the statues of my garden are nastier
harassers into stone my eyes can change
so free women run through the fields
so their mineral skin is forever
buried with moss branches leaves grass and flowers
About trust.
I told you
everything I knew everything I wanted everything I felt
you laugh
that little girl doesn’t know anything about the world
I’m not a little girl anymore
my knowledge is nearly as wide as the internet itself
my desires are so serious that involve all humankind
my feelings are brighter and warmer than the sun
what a shame
I will never try to tell you about them again
the fine line between being sexual and sexualized.
I want to wear a neckline to the floor
a very tight top
and a skirt way too short
still I don't want forty year old men staring
yes, I know how hot I am right now
do you know I could be your daughter
does your daughter know you harass
women just as other men harass her
I want to twerk with whoever I choose
and that's not you
to move my butt all around
except against your pants
I can be as sexual as I decide
yet I decide not being the object of your desire
but the subject of mine
Home sweet home.
I thought four walls made a home
until I felt scared of being alone
I thought my mom’s arms
were too until we grew apart
I thought your mouth would be mine
so soft intimate and mild
Now I realise my home is within myself
but I’ll let you in embracing my mind,
touching my heart or reading these lines.