by Halsey
It’s been easier the past few months
when I would hold my tongue
’Cause when I write it all down I have to face it
But when I hold it inside I can pretend it’s okay
I haven’t called my grandmother in a year
’Cause she’s the only one I know
Who tells me shit I don’t wanna hear
But I need to hear
I’ve been in the gym these mornings
It takes me 7 minutes to run a mile
And 7 seconds to run from my problems
I’m working on my lung capacity
Fun capacity
Uptight bitch
Take a breath and relax,
it isn’t so bad.
Keep drinking keep dancing
Keep hopeless romancing
They say that keys open doors
But you handed all your keys
To your friends and they dip ’em in a powder sack
Screaming, “Bring on the black!”
And every single second is like late-night TV
A Skinemax freebie
Watch the night sweats
drip down his back
Yelling, “Bring on the black!”
My father said,
“You’ll never belong to a man till I’m dead”
So we just belong to a bag instead.
Winners don’t lose, right?
Except sleep.
Counting sheep.
Relentless beep.
Of the hotel TV.
Too high to react.
So I’m up late begging,
“Lord, bring on the black.”
SOMETHING FOR THEM
This is to remind you that you are a lover.
That you melt at a glance
at a touch.
That you are a baby.
You are soft and fragile
and you need someone to tell you
that everything is going to be okay.
That you are an idiot
and you are going to fuck up
1 million more times the rest of your life.
But this is to remind you
that you are a statue, gilded in marble,
and there is white lightning in your eyes.
Change shape.
Give in.
SEVENTEEN
It was cold for California
when my phone rang half past 3,
my little brother’s on the other line.
He’s shaking like a leaf.
At 17 years old, he lost his
best friend on a field.
There’s no battle in our history book
compared to how he feels.
Alabaster faces,
all lined up, turning gray.
I watched my brother hold a casket
before his graduation day.
The boy’s poor mother cried
with screams that echoed through the town.
Like a Siren on a shoreline,
begging God to let her drown.
So my brother crawled beside her
and he got beneath the sheet.
He let a woman hold him,
so that she could make believe.
She said, “Your arms are a bit smaller,
and your hair has got a wave,
but you smell just like my little boy.
You’ve almost got his face.”
So he lay there on the couch
until the sky turned red and tan.
And in a full-grown woman’s arms,
my little brother was a man.
I LEFT THE PARTY
I looked through the window and saw the lights flicker
like salt and pepper flakes across the Tokyo skyline.
I saw the amber glowing from the floor lamp in the corner,
warming the room with its thick embrace.
I saw the pink in my lips and the orange in my eyes
and the blush across my chest.
And I wondered how could I have not noticed
the ways in which you dulled my senses
and stole the color from the world right before my eyes.
Of all the wrongs you committed,
the worst was keeping me from the beauty
in anything
that wasn’t
you.
I WISH THAT I WERE MANIC ALL THE TIME
Be patient with me
When my limbs become trees
And my roots become reeds
And the sounds from my mouth start making sense
My mind is messy but it’s beautiful
like I’m in utero
I don’t say it often,
but I’m proud of the woman that I turned out to be
You might think I’m crazy
Wild and young and free
But really I’m just:
careful
quiet
overthinking
analyzing like
It’s logic
over loving
and emotion
brought me nothing
but disaster
so I hold my drink
and sit right in the corner
smiling.
Wish I were a wild child like I say I am
Wish I really meant it when I say
that I don’t give a damn
Wish that I were manic all the time.
Think I like me better
when I’m all outside the lines.
But my colors bleed
And they bleed bright red.
I keep this pistol near my bed
Inside my mouth
so I can keep my tongue from tearing up my head.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
HALSEY, born Ashley Nicolette Frangipane, is a Grammy-nominated singer-songwriter. She lives in Los Angeles, California.
www.SimonandSchuster.co.uk/Authors/Halsey
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First published in the United States by Simon & Schuster Inc., 2020
First published in Great Britain by Simon & Schuster UK Ltd, 2020
Copyright © Ashley Frangipane, 2020
The right of Ashley Frangipane to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
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The author and publishers have made all reasonable efforts to contact copyright-holders for permission, and apologise for any omissions or errors in the form of credits given. Corrections may be made to future printings.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Hardback ISBN: 978-1-4711-8907-4
eBook ISBN: 978-1-4711-8908-1
