I wrote this awhile ago. I'm finally healed.

The Truth Between My Teeth, The Lies Under Your Tongue

Between the smoke clouds that left my lungs I could see you taking sideways glances, ignoring my questions, fabricating something to say to make me silent. You never liked my honesty. You always preferred a version of me that didn’t exist. The little girl whose eyes filled with all the things you wanted her to see, who believed in you and what you could do to her. I’m looking at you now with a feeling and a soul and you’re at a loss with how to handle me. A girl seeking what’s raw and real but all you’re prepared to offer is something preserved, false, and unhealthy. A diet that could kill.

You proceeded to speak fragmented monologues about not wanting to become attached, about not being ready to love, and about being scared. Your eyes seem swollen with these ideas, it’s too much for you to bear, but not enough to choke you up. These words are kissed with an air of vagueness that shows you don’t think I can comprehend. You intend to candy-coat the truth so that the sweet, sweet girl you think I am can lick it up. Am I really that small?

The world sees me so little, and young but I’ve traveled far into the drowning depths of pure passion. I know the bondage that holds you when you’re in love. I know the loss of identity that at first feels like growth, before you’re standing in the mirror with stunted ability and a lack of resources to escape. But never for a minute did the alternative seem more appealing. Freedom is loneliness. Having a mind and a voice comes with a price. The cost is forever isolating yourself from who and what could really matter to you. Matter enough to become you, transform you, eat you up and spit you out.

Maybe that’s it. I’m standing here soaking wet after you took me into your mouth in slow, deliberate bites. You chewed me up into something beautiful, worthwhile. Creating the version of me you wanted so badly to taste. A stomach full of nourishment, which soon started to sour. My honesty heaved out of you, coughing me back up into the world and I am nothing but alone. Vulnerable and naked, still bearing pieces from inside you. You weren’t ready to receive what you had asked for.

from the archives of a poet.

Bad Omen

He was at the airline check-in
shackled at his feet,
and at his hands,
the chains attached to a utility belt.
He was being transferred
perhaps to another prison.
A runaway who finally got caught?
Sexual assault?
Tax fraud?
He could be innocent but
he could be one of the criminals
who really got what he deserved,
or even got off easy.
He looked at me with wide eyes
That knew regret, sorrow, and shame.
As he scanned me up and down
I felt compelled to smile
And there in that instant
The prisoner imprisoned me
And I spent my flight
Trapped in the shackles of my own mind
Unable to decipher the differences
Between him and I
Both innocent and guilty.

Ga Ga Ooh La La!

 

my new hair color! the pink didn't photograph too well, as it tended to want to blend in with the maroon... oh well. it looks dark red indoors and fuchsia in the sunlight.

and here are my new indian chief vintage pumps! (from LA Vintage)

i love the kitten heels, and how they go "click click" as i walk on the pavement to classes. classic.

once again,
happy thanksgiving!

kisses