mom says don’t talk

I have been violated
manipulated

raped
it’s forgetful
side effects include: loss of memory
the involved remain faceless

the one I do remember
is an owl,
signaling right before dawn
I hear him in my right ear
closer to the back

I went with a good friend to see a psychic
It felt urgent
she was waiting by the beaded curtain
dressed in the same black that I was
wearing
expecting me

I struggled to shuffle the tarot cards
as she told me exactly
what I needed to hear

One memory seems to
remain
tied up in a bondage rope
to only trust the knot
around my wrists

I now walk around with
a decapitated head in my
left hand

a scar
It’s an illness

tundish

bare like the trees
and blatantly shattered
he points to his wounds

I press my face
against the winter air
coming through
the window
it’s march things are
about to bloom

but first,

in
alcohol
I slip into the crazy

I can tell and
he notices

because as I walk
down the street
a cloud
pulls me away with
the shimmer of something
that is imagined

leaving me stranded
somewhere in between
my world and
the sidewalk

caps lock morning

A list of dates with boys in which they didn’t seem happy to see me.

Forgetting the correct title for every book, movie, or novel I have ever consumed.

Men teaching women things

Forgetting how to speak

Saying something clever
but it’s not working

The stomach turning was caused from something other than good looks.

undone

Before seeing him, I had an image of him making us coffee in the morning because that is what the romantic part of me says to the rational side, in order to keep going. I think he knows, because he’s asking me with his eyes lowered.

Problem #1: I’m a hyper romantic whose known to take that clawfoot bathtub that’s been hiding in grime and age. Squeezing every ounce of marble and rain while setting candles.

The next step is to drop rose petals while whispering hopes into them. Like that time, I wished for a really cute high school boyfriend. I whispered into an egg on a spring day and then buried it my backyard. There was no one around. I was eating an orange, filling the air of what was once an attic into a tangerine. At one point I had to stop myself from looking out of that window.

All of the words that i’m not saying are translating and its problematic. All of the parts of me that i’m trying to hide are only being seen by this person, and maybe a few others, but this person seems important to me. But maybe he’s not realizing it in the moment. The bad part is that he doesn’t see it turning into anything. I don’t know what he means by anything but i’m losing focus.

weird and strange and redundant

what’s the word
for when you unintentionally say
the wrong word
because you are so concentrated on the word that comes after it

and then you look back in regret
because it was
said in a conversation with a man
you have slept with and would like it to turn into something
more
but now
you’ve ruined it
the potential to sound like an intelligent woman
all of if any credit that you have built for yourself
as a mind, the portrayal of a well read mind
is gone
and what is left
is your looks
and wide blue eyes
a dumb and dull woman

now, in the city

A few complications did actually arise from that fun time. I wish I could be one of those people who have fun times and then move on happily and effortlessly. Without attaching any deep emotional trauma or seeing any potential for other fun times. But I’m not usually a fun having person, so this situation must be analyzed further. Dissected and manipulated into a heartache. It’s a reliable space. Who would I be without a concave chest full feelings. The first symptom arose, when the sunset seem to have multiplied. I started slipping deeper into the forest air, losing the density of my body.