small and unimportant)
in retrospect i may have been
a little too hopeful
considering you never gave a shit about me
(i just wanted you to so badly)
so i suck in mouthfuls of dust and swallow the sand
that's gathered under my tongue while i've stood here
not loving
not living
not breathing
for anyone else but you
(it's a wonder i didn't crumble to nothing)
-c.h.
a series of short poems on the boys who love(d) me
1. you were my first everything
and you ruined me you are
why i have doubts about boys
when they tell me they love me
but we were young and stupid
i've finally forgiven you
2. i kissed you to try and get
over number one i stole your first kiss
you said i was your first love too
i didn't love you sometimes i think
about your face when i told you the truth
i have never stopped being sorry
1. when you came back i thought you'd
changed you promised things were
different i believed you because
i had never stopped loving you and
things were great until i realized you'd
never stopped loving her either
3. you were sad and i thought i could
save you but you can't just kiss
depression away i will always regret
giving up on you so soon but i am
too selfish for someone as pure as you
you deserve the best in the world and
i thank you for finally forgiving me
4. i will always smile when i think of you
there was nothing wrong with us you
just can't fix something that was built
already broken down i truly believe that
you've never not belonged with her
i was just a road stop on the way
5. i thought you were the end i meant
every promise i ever made to you
but instead of talking to me you were
making out with girls you didn't care
about and that's when you started to
slowly break my heart
6. i wanted to show number five i could
kiss my friends for fun too i didn't mean
to fall in love with you i'm sorry i made you
want to kill yourself when i ended it but i
hope you've grown up because threatening
suicide won't make me love you again
5. i guess i didn't realize how much you loved
me until you almost lost me to number six
but we will never find someone who loves us
as much as we love each other we are
soulmates and you kissed another girl
it doesn't matter you're my soulmate right
7. you were the kindest person i'd ever
met you bought me gifts and told me
i was pretty but you didn't like how
i would shout my opinions and when i
refused to change you left i learned that night
that no boy is worth changing who you are
5. you had me wrapped around your finger
and my heart locked in a cage you would stab
it whenever i'd try to pull away so while
you were kissing someone else i broke in
and took it back after all those months
i finally took it back
8. you've loved me for a long time and i'm
sorry it took me so long to figure it out
but i'm here now and i don't plan on leaving
you are mine and i am yours forever and
always i will love you for forever and always
i promise i promise i promise
5. i finally get why you'd kiss other girls and
not worry about losing me i now know what
it's like to have someone love you so much
you could do anything and they would stay
the difference is that i wouldn't ever act on it
i don't want to break him like you did me
5. i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm
sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry
i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry
i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry
i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry
and i shouldn't be
5. do you realize now how much you meant to
me how i had counted on us if you called for
help i would still come to you if you needed a
friend i would be there in a strange way you
are still mine and i am still yours but we were
never meant to be forever and always
-c.h.
ten things that told me you never loved me at all
1.four months in, i asked you, “do you know how i like my coffee?” and you frowned. “no,” you said, “but i know when your birthday is. i remember the big things.” but you forgot that i loved you, and that was the biggest thing of all.
2. after you first kissed me, you shrugged. i never understood the shrug until now. i was never more than a shrug to you, in the grand scheme of things, just a moment of ‘i guess,’ and to me, you were the epitome of ‘absolutely.’
3. when i first said “i love you,” you hesitated. you always hesitated with me. it was never the nervous kind, or the shocked kind. it was always the kind of hesitation when you don’t mean what you’re about to say. the kind of hesitation before you lie.
4. one time, i said, “baby, i’ll always wait for you. if you ever have to leave, i’ll wait for you to come back.” you said, “okay.”
5. when you left, you told me, “i never wanted it to be this deep. i never wanted you to fall in love with me. this wasn’t supposed to be serious.” i spent the next three months wondering if i was the problem; maybe i confused infatuation with love. but now i know that deep down, you were just angry at yourself. because you were telling the truth: you didn’t want it to be this deep, but you let it happen. and knowing this doesn’t make it any less painful.
6. you never once apologized for breaking my heart. not while you were leaving, when i was sobbing and telling you that breaking my heart was, in fact, exactly what you were doing. nor did you apologize in the months that followed. even now, i wait to hear from you. not because i still love you, but because i just want to know that you finally understand what you did. i don’t think you ever will.
7. you never wanted to post pictures of me. or with me, frankly. you never brought me to any parties. when we hung out, it was always just us. maybe you were ashamed of yourself, but i always just thought i was an embarrassment. you never did anything to reassure me that i wasn’t.
8. a month later, i texted you. “i just want to know if you’re sorry. at all. even just the slightest bit. all i want is closure.” you read it, and didn’t reply, and that gave me my answer.
9. i saw you, once, at a party. alone. we spoke, briefly, and i said, “you let me waste half of a year on you. you could have stopped it before i was too far gone.” you sighed, “i know i could’ve.” i remember feeling so angry, so hateful. “then why didn’t you?” and you looked at your feet, “i just kept hoping that i would feel something. anything. for your sake,” and then you looked at me as if that equated to an apology. “you’re full of shit,” i spat, “you’re not sorry. you loved the attention, and i bet you loved knowing that i was crying over you for months.” you ran your hands through your hair, but you didn’t say i was wrong.
10. four months in, i asked you, “do you know how i like my coffee?” and you frowned. “no,” you said, “but i know when your birthday is.” three weeks later, my birthday passed. and y
ou forgot.
-c.h.
trans rights are human rights
society has taught us what we think is true;
girls like pink and boys like blue,
“there are no exceptions, no in-betweens,
there aren’t any genders left unseen.”
it’s engraved into us since we’ve been born,
a patch in our mind that’s not easily torn.
so when a boy likes dresses but a girl does not,
some can’t understand; it’s not what they were taught.
but not understanding is not an excuse
to be hateful or condescending; they’re not just “confused.”
they know who they are and they deserve respect,
they deserve happiness and acceptance, not anything less.
if “he” wants to be “she,” you call them just that,
you don’t fight or argue, you don’t treat them like trash.
their pronouns are important and if you beg to differ;
sorry, you don’t get to decide another one’s gender.
who cares if it’s “weird” or you don’t know why,
it’s not about what you think, it isn’t your life.
you respect their decision because it doesn’t harm you;
get over it: some boys like pink and some girls like blue.
-c.h.
to those who claim they don’t need feminism:
take a step back.
maybe a few steps back, for some of you.
take a step back out of your world and look at our world, the
world you’re still a part of whether you’d like to be or not.
take a step back and listen to the bones crunching beneath your
feet.
the spines snapping under your toes.
the hair tangled in between your neatly trimmed fingernails.
look at our bodies.
our bodies, that we have bent and broken into a staircase for
you to walk up.
our bodies, that we have have torn and ripped to pieces so you
could use our limbs as a handrail.
our bodies, that have been branded with slurs and jeers that
you won’t have to endure because of it.
this platform that you stand upon, this platform you think
makes you above the rest of us women who are still fighting,
who are still unsatisfied–
we built this for you.
you stand atop the skeletons of susan b. anthony, sojourner
truth, eleanor roosevelt, betty frieden, maya angelou, coretta
scott king.
tell me, would you tell these women that you don’t need
them?
that you don’t need their accomplishments? the rights they
fought their entire lives for? the rights they cried, yelled,
protested, and died for?
tell me, could you have done what they did?
without them, you would not be able to stand so tall.
without them, you would not be able to declare your strength
and independence.
without feminism, you wouldn’t be able to say that you don’t
need just that.
feminism.
we are not asking for you to lay down with us,
to take the blows as we do.
keep your primped hair and your manicured nails, and keep
your distance. some people will never be cut out to fight.
and that’s okay. we have enough fight for all of us.
we just ask that perhaps, instead of shunning us and ignoring
history, you open your eyes, and maybe offer a bit of thanks.
-c.h.
untitled love poem (because i'm not sure what we are)
i think you'll taste like
sprite,
because something about
you is crisper,
sharper,
than just taking a bite
out of a peach.
there is more to you
than sugar.
and i think you'll feel like
springtime,
even the thunderstorms,
but i like the rain,
almost as much as i like
new beginnings and flowers.
most of all, though,
i think i'm falling in love
with you,
all the sour bites
and lightning strikes included.
i can shift my fingers through
the soil of us and feel the seeds
sprouting.
i hope they dig their roots
down deep.
-c.h.
twenty one days: a love story
day one: it’s hot outside, simply sweltering, and there is sweat
soaking through your shirt, but he has a friendly smile and
warm eyes. “honestly, i’m sort of a bitch,” you tell him. he
nods, looks you over. “yeah, you look like one,” he says, “but i
don’t mind.”
day two: at lunch, you tell him you are in love with somebody.
“i don’t think he’s real,” he laughs, and when you ask why, he
just shrugs. “i just don’t think he is.” you think you see
sadness in his eyes.
day three: you watch how he moves, how his eyes crinkle as
he smiles, how he frowns when his hair falls in his face. you
remind yourself that you are in love with somebody. there is a
jolt of pain in your heart.
day four: there are moments when the light catches his eyes
and you feel your heart shake in its cage. “no,” you tell
yourself that night, “absolutely not.”
day five: the stars look pretty tonight, but they are not the only
beautiful thing you see. he tells you about a girl that broke him
two years ago and you tell him about the boy that has yet to
give back all the pieces. “can i say something?” he asks. “of
course,” you respond. he says, “i’m just really glad i met you.”
you go to bed smiling, and you hate yourself.
day six: your friend asks you if he loves you and you don’t
know what to say. “i’m in love with somebody else,” you
stammer, and they raise their eyebrows. “does he know that?”
there is a pause before you respond, “yes, of course he does.”
day seven: you are supposed to be in love with somebody, you
tell yourself in the shower. there is a ring on your finger that
serves as a reminder. in the shower, you cry. nobody can hear
you above the sound of the water.
day eight: he reaches over and grabs your hand in the movie
theatre. “no,” you want to say, but you don’t. you don’t pull
away, and you grip his hand even tighter. “i love him,” you
say later that night. “i know you do,” he whispers, “but maybe
you could love me too.”
day nine: he wraps his arm around your waist. “you look
beautiful,” he murmurs to you and you hate yourself, you hate
yourself for letting him say it and you hate yourself for loving
the sound of his voice in your ear. “i can’t do this,” you start to
cry, but he kisses your forehead. “yes you can,” he argues,
“you just shouldn’t.”
day ten: he asks you what you want to do. you look at his eyes,
feel his hand burning into yours. “i’ll be yours,” you say, “but
only for a little bit.” he smiles, but it was never the answer
he’d hoped for.
day eleven: you tell yourself that you don’t love him, simply
because you can’t. at night, he tries to kiss you. you move so
&nbs
p; that he only kisses your cheek. “i can’t,” you say as you pull
away. “and it’s not just because i shouldn’t. it’s because i love
him. i love him.” you repeat it as you go to sleep, hoping
you’d wake up and it’d be true again.
day twelve: you let him hold your hand and you try to numb
yourself to the electricity shooting through your fingers. when
he asks if you’re okay, you smile and tell him, “of course.” he
squeezes your hand tighter, and you feel your throat close.
when you run to the bathroom, his friend tells him that he’s
hurting you. he says, “i know. i know.”
day thirteen: today you go out together. he asks you questions
and you answer truthfully. he asks, “do you still love him?”
you say, “i don’t know anymore.” then you grab his hand, and
he smiles. at dinner he tells you he loves you, and you shake
your head. “i know what you’re thinking, but it’s true.” you
rest your head on his shoulder and sigh. “i think, i think i love
you too.”he kisses your fingers, “will you ever know for
sure?” you stare at the table, “i don’t know, maybe.”
day fourteen: he cries today, and you feel panic spreading
through you because you know it’s your fault. “i’m tired of all
the missed opportunities,” he whispers, “you’re going to forget
about me.” you grip his hand so tightly you know it hurts him.
“i won’t forget, even if it doesn’t work out,” you promise. “but
that’s the thing,” he whimpers, “i don’t want this to not work
out.” you almost kiss him, but you are supposed to be in love
the boys i've loved & the end of the world Page 7
