I Hate Writing Poems About Boys

Everything felt joyful when he was there,

He bought her yellow lilies,

And made her feel elegant and,

Wild at the same time,

He infected her with butterflies,

Healing her previous misconceptions of love,

He tied her heart in knots she could never untie..

I incorporated at least one word from each these colors:

-Joyful Yellow Tulip

-Elegant Thai Silk

-Yellow Banana Peel 

-Wild Yellow Begonia

-Whimsical Fairy Lily

-Tied Yellow Ribbon

-Healing Arnica

Not Really About Tierra Brown At All

Tomorrow’s keep coming but,

I am tired of the days I’m living,

Everyday dull and the same like I’m,

Running on autopilot I’m,

Ready for the new chapter,

And ready for new characters,

But they say “don’t wish your life away” I’m still,

Ready to see the world and be my,

Own person not,

Who they want me to be,

Not who I’ve been

Make Believe

I miss the days of make believe and Barbie dolls.  When growing up and moving out seemed eternities away.  When the friendships I’ve lost, and the ones I can feel slowly dying, felt infinite.  When I didn’t need to care about gas prices, paychecks, or taxes.  When I didn’t I have to worry about what boys will think of the skirt I’m wearing or how much I weigh.  I miss the days of big dreams, sidewalk chalk, and whispered secrets.  The days when I didn’t have any regrets or mistakes.  The days of make believe are now over, and the days I’ve been longing for are here.  But I just want to go back.

Seashells

            Gulf Shores, Alabama was the destination of many of my family’s vacations as a child. It’s not extremely glamourous, but it was affordable and warm so it fit our description of the perfect spot.  I remember leaving extremely early in the morning when it was still dark with every single inch of space in the trunk taken up by our suitcases.  The agonizingly long car ride always put everyone in an awful mood, but as soon as we stepped out of the car and saw the beach it all seemed to go away. 

            My mom has always loved looking for seashells.  That’s the only thing she will spend her time doing if she is at the beach.  I loved going with her and taking sand castle buckets full of the shells back to our room.  We would sort through them and pick out which seashells were worthy of being taken back home to Missouri with us. 

One year the seashell selection was especially small.  My mom and I looked early in the morning to late at night, but we could not seem to find anything special.  I had my heart set on finding an huge, amazing, beautiful seashell to take back home with me as a souvenir, so my mom decided to take matters into her own hands. She went to one of the nearby souvenir shops and bought a huge conch shell.  She buried it close to the exit of our condo so it wouldn’t accidently get washed away or discovered by another seashell hunter.  She later took me out to hunt for this too good to be true seashell.  We started digging, but had no luck finding the shell.  My mom started to get worried that we would not find it, but about 20 minutes into our hunt we finally found it.

I think I was more excited about finding that shell than I’ve been for anything else in my life.  My mom let me believe that we just happened to find that shell by chance for several years, but eventually told me how the shell really ended up in our possession.  It was kind of like the moment you find out Santa isn’t real.  It kind of loses a little bit of the magic. 

I am…

ticket stubs and birthday cards I keep in a box under my dresser,

collection of soft, warm blankets at the end of my bed,

music I write at 2 am that I don’t show anyone,

big, blue eyes, painted with thick, black eyeliner,

dreams I have about moving far away and doing things no one thinks are possible,

songs I listen to at full volume when I’m driving on the high way,

late night drives through random neighborhoods with my best friend,

funny conversations with my mom sitting on her ugly, red couch,

the scar on my left hand,

gumbo on the kitchen stove my dad makes on Sundays,

concerts I make my mom drive nine hours to take me to,

scared about the future, but don’t want to admit it,

striped shirts and thick brown glasses,

the rare moments me and my sister get along and laugh together,

plastic cups and bags scattered around in my car,

big comfy sweaters on cold winter days,

long blonde hair,

Excited to see what I’ll become.