-c.h.
an excerpt (#2)
“did he break your heart?”
“no, i don’t think so,” she answers, but she sounds uncertain. the
question has made her reconsider. after a moment, she says, “he
hurt me. there’s no use in denying that.”
he looks at her. “how badly?”
she shrugs, looks down at her shoes. “enough to make me cry.
enough… just enough. he hurt me enough.”
he blinks, and rolls a lighter between his fingers. he’s not a
smoker, but she is, and he thought he would give it to her,
maybe. just to try and get through to her. “did you love him?”
she laughs at this, and tucks her knees into her chest, “nah, not
even close.” she sighs, “i could have though, i think.” her eyes
darken, “if he’d given me the chance to.”
he’s unsure of how to respond, so he hands her the lighter. “it’s
for you,” he mumbles, and she smiles for a fleeting second, takes
it from his grasp, and then hands it back.
“no thanks,” she says, and then explains, “i’m trying to quit. i
wanna go somewhere, live a long time. can’t do that if i smoke,
ya know?”
“yeah, i know, i just thought–”
she squeezes his hand, “i know what you thought, and it’s sweet.
you’re sweet.” he smiles, and for a moment, she smiles back at
him. then it slides off her face, and he waits for her to speak.
“it just, it just sucks getting fucked over, ya know?” she runs a
hand through her hair, “like, he was so important. it wasn’t that i
wanted to date him or any of that, but he was just important. he
used to say that i was important too, and that’s what hurts the
most, i think. the fact that he just randomly decided that i wasn’t
anymore.”
he opens his mouth, but she keeps going.
“so i guess, in a way, he might have broken my heart. not
enough for me to feel it for a long time, but just enough to
remind me that he meant something to me and he fucking
walked away.”
“he hurt you enough,” he echoes her previous words.
“yeah, yeah,” she wipes a tear away with the palm of her hand,
“he hurt me enough.”
-c.h.
losing you
time is everything and we are running out of it--tick tick tick--my eyes twitch and my hands tremble but shaking doesn't bring you back--won't bring you back--shaking only rattles our bones and cracks our fingers--crack crack crack--and i cry for you--please please please stay stay stay with me--but you can't--you can't--we can't anymore--time is everything and we are running out of it--tick tick--slipping through our fingers like sand and blowing away with the wind--gone gone gone--you are gone gone gone and i reach in the dark for you but i can't see your eyes any more where are you--you promised--lies lies lies--time is everything and we are running out of it--tick
-c.h.
an abstract look on my high school years
FRESHMAN: bitten nails. scratchy scalp. boys are nothing. i still miss him. six months. boys have to be nothing. forgotten homework. told the teacher i don't understand. refused tutoring. can't seem to write anymore. i saw him today. he kissed me. i believed his apology. second chances. second chances. he lied again. i'm still hurting. now i can write. boys are nothing. boys are nothing.
SOPHOMORE. new boy. new love. want to say new me. still the same. he's too much. i don't deserve him. he leaves. tells everyone he hates me. boys are too much. music. invest in the music. he smiles at me. he's somebody i deserve. shaky fingers. swollen lips. i kiss him too much. i get bored. i leave. boys are nothing.
JUNIOR: call him on the phone. i say i miss him. he says it back. he curls his fingers into her. he's a liar. filthy liar. i give up everything to love him. he only wants me to boost his ego. says i look real pretty all fucked up that. i still think about his tongue. still blame myself for everything. i know i didn't deserve that pain. but i accept anyway. told him i tried to give him what he wanted. in the end he's the one left crying. i don't understand it even now. boys are nothing.
SENIOR: he kisses me. i smile. think of his teeth. time is a bomb. don't know what will happen. love him too much to stop. he treats me better than i deserve. i take it. take him. i can't imagine him in love with someone else. i am his. some people call this poison. i call it the antidote. i told myself boys are nothing. but they aren't. they aren't nothing. they aren't everything. they just are. he holds my hand. i fold into him. boys are.
-c.h.
a misconstrued metaphor
people say that the way you know
how loved a book is
is by how worn the pages are.
how creased the spine is.
how wrinkled the corners are
from bending them.
i want to think that
you took this idea
to heart when it came
to how you treated me.
maybe you thought
the more broken and bent
i was the more loved i would look.
but i am not a book.
you cannot pick me up
just to put me down again.
i am not something to be skimmed.
read all of me, or don't read any at all.
i'm not demanding
you take forever
to finish me.
i won't even mind
if you don't enjoy me.
i'm just asking that
you treat me with care,
and walk away having learned
something new.
-c.h.
here's the reason why i left you
we are a fire;
we are flaming
with red-hot passion
and we burn
and burn
and burn
we are a fire;
it only took a spark
for us to light a wildfire
and we burn
and burn
and burn
we are a fire;
we need oxygen to live
but we are too close to breathe
and we burn
and burn
and burn
out.
-c.h.
a twelve-word story
"so, what do you think about me?"
"well," he said, "i don't."
-c.h.
on the refugee crisis
(follow the punctuation)
silence their cries.
we can not
let the world know
about their struggles, we must
keep quiet.
we can not
expose ourselves.
it is the just thing, to
do, and we are strong.
we know it is a frightening thing to
always live in fear.
but we are tired of how they
complain.
we have no reason to
give them what they need.
we have to
tape over their mouths.
we can’t
speak the truth.
they
are not innocent.
we must know we
have loud voices.
they do not.
they should believe
there is no reason that
they are important.
-c.h.
(read from bottom to top)
honest texts to my ex i'm too scared to send
you can't keep resurfacing like a rotted fish in the ocean on a hot day. it makes me sick, every time.
i don't care if you dreamt about me. please don't let me know that i still haunt you at night. it'll make me think
there's still something here.
sometimes i'm afraid i might still be in love with you. out of everything, that's what i'm most scared of.
i want you to know that i miss the way you made me laugh. can we have that again someday?
you still make me cry, you fuck
you always tell me you're still not okay but what about me? what makes you think i'm okay? i had my heart broken too remember?
nothing felt as easy at the beginning as you did. but nothing was as impossible in the end as you were.
i'm sorry. i've always been sorry.
i don't think i'm ever going to love somebody like i loved you, but i'm okay with that. i don't want to feel this type of pain ever again.
one day, you're going to look back on me and smile. you'll have to.
we can't dwell on this forever.
-c.h.
write about something other than love
that is what they tell me
they say
to write about something
more challenging than love
like coming to terms
with your abusive relationship
isn't challenging
like learning to stop
loving someone who
once gave you everything
isn't a battle
like figuring out
how to use art as
a catharsis instead of
not sleeping
not eating
not breathing
isn't a hard thing to do
so this is me saying
i will write about whatever
makes me scream
makes me cry
makes me laugh
makes me smile
and if that's
love
or a lack thereof
then so be it
i didn't bleed
just so you could say
my blood isn't
red enough
for you
-c.h.
you are not the one bleeding here
you call it free speech
and you hit the gas pedal--
drive until you can't,
and it's not the people
that stop you.
i look down at the bodies
and i wonder if you'll ever recognize
the blood on your hands as being anything
but your own.
(especially when it's not.)
-c.h.
this is why we can't stay away from each other
you said hello
and you meant it--
i could hear it in your voice
that you wanted to know me
to see me
to feel me
you said goodbye
and you were lying--
i could hear it in your voice
that you didn't want to leave me
to forget me
to free me
i want to say
i meant the goodbye
as much as i did the hello
but i know i didn't
i know
i can't
-c.h.
maybe a love story will catch your attention
i fell in love with a muslim boy once.
he kissed flower petals into my shoulder blades
and traced arabic with his tongue onto my stomach.
his love was one of the most beautiful things i had
ever experienced.
he told me one night how scared he was.
how he was afraid to walk down the street sometimes.
how, even though he didn't wear a hijab, his sister did,
and after an attack, he always tried to convince her
to take it off.
sometimes, he would cry.
heavy, broken sobs into my chest.
he told me once that he hated who he was,
and i told him that is what they wanted him to do.
i know he hides his quran when his non-muslim friends
come over.
i know he feels like he has to justify everything he does.
i know there are times where he feels as though he is trapped.
we fell apart months ago.
he couldn't love both himself
and me.
and as much as i wanted to,
i could not teach him what pride is
when for so long, the world
has told him he is undeserving of it.
-c.h.
i can't tell if we're still in love (i hope we are)
and there are times
when i am sad
that i think of you,
and i become sadder,
just in a happier kind of way.
i remember when i kissed you
and you told me you froze
because you thought i never would,
and i still smile knowing
that i'd planned to all along.
you told me you loved me
and i still feel the shiver
running down my spine.
you were so beautiful to me.
you've never stopped in my eyes.
and there are times
when i am sad
that i think of you,
and how i said i love you too
because darling, i did
and darling, i still do.
-c.h.
as a woman
i wrote once in a poem
that woman are hostages
of expectation.
it has been almost three years
since those words left
my mind and bled onto paper
and i have yet to find
them false.
society is full of contradictions
and it is built this way so we
are always stuck on the ground.
we do one thing we think they want
but then they tell us they want another,
and it goes in a cycle. we can never
climb over the ledge.
they tell us to wear makeup,
so we dab foundation onto
our skin and brush on silky
highlighters and mascara,
only for them to tell us
it's too much-- they like it
natural.
so we wipe off the makeup,
walk out onto the streets
with a face that has undereye bags,
splotches of acne, uneven skin,
and then they tell us that
we look sloppy-- we should try
harder.
we are taught through the media
that women are sexual creatures.
everywhere we go, we see the pictures
and hear the songs.
if we refuse to be sexual, we are ridiculed.
if we harness it for ourselves, we are crucified.
if we don't put out, we are hated.
if we do and are proud, we are hated even more.
men want to see us naked and submissive,
naked and insecure
naked and silent,
not naked and dominant,
naked and confident,
naked and loud.
when a woman posts
a halfnaked photo
because she wants to,
she will be ridiculed by the same
men who watch lesbian porn
in between harassing women
online for taking control of
the sexuality they demanded
we have.
they tell us to love ourselves
but then they bash us for it
if we aren't what they want,
if loving ourselves means going against
everything they've told us.
so women find themselves trapped--
trapped because every move
is a wrong one.
"wear makeup,
but not because you
want to."
"be sexual,
but don't be proud of it."
"love yourself,
but not too much.
you may get away from us then."
-c.h.
i didn't know you'd regret me that much
the boys i've loved & the end of the world Page 4
